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COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



ENGLISH WAYS AND 
BY-WAYS 



ENGLISH WAYS AND 
BY-WAYS 



BEING THE 

LETTERS OF JOHN AND RUTH DOBSON 

WRITTEN FROM ENGLAND 

TO THEIR FRIEND, LEIGHTON PARKS 



" For me, an aim I never fash — 
I rhyme for fun." 

— Burns. 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

1920 






COPTRIGHT, 1920, BT 

CHARLES SCRIBNERS SONS 



Published October, 1920 



COPYRIGHT. 1J20. BY THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY CO. 




OCT 27 
©CI.A601095 



TO 

E. S. P. 



WHO KNOWS JOHN AND RUTH DOBSON 

AS WELL AS I DO AND CAN BEAR WITNESS TO THE 

TRUTH OF THIS NARRATIVE 

"ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS " 

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 



PREFACE 

What this little book contains the reader must 
discover for himself. I shall not save him trouble 
by telling in the Preface anything about it. Nor 
shall I tell more than the letters themselves show 
as to the identity of John and Ruth. 

It is a book with a Purpose. The purpose 
being to give the reader the same pleasure that I 
had in compiling it when debarred for a time 
from more serious work. 

I am, however, not without hope that this 
humorous record of the impressions of two young 
and unconventional Americans of the England be- 
fore the dreadful war may do a little to lessen the 
tension which the nervous strain of the last few 
years has unhappily produced, and so help to 
that mutual understanding and sympathy upon 
which the welfare of the world depends. The test 
of friendship is sympathetic banter, and is, more- 
over, a firmer cement than solemn speech. 

My thanks are due to the Atlantic Monthly for 
permitting the use in book form of some passages 
in this chronicle which appeared as articles in that 
magazine. 

L. P. 

Point-au-Pic, Quebec, 
August, 1920. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 



I. The Legacy 3 

II. The School of Instruction .... 9 

III. "Fool Proof" 14 

IV. "Der Kaiser Wilhelm der Zweite" . 17 
V. The Car Arrives 21 

VI. The Great North Road 26 

VII. The England of Fielding .... 31 

VIII. The End of the North Road ... 35 

IX. An English Interior 40 

X. Husband and Wife 44 

XI. The Fourth Speed 54 

XII. " Jael the Wife of Heber the Kenite " . 60 

XIII. "As It Was in the Beginning". . . 65 

XIV. Rural England 71 

XV. Education 79 

XVI. A By-Election 85 

XVII. Sheep-Dogs 89 



[ ix ] 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XVIII. Brigands and Bootblacks .... 95 

XIX. The Piston-Rod 100 

XX. Falstaff 107 

XXI. The Black Country Ill 

XXII. An "Average" Sunday 119 

XXIII. Dowager and Cowboy 125 

XXIV. "By Pureness, by Kindness, by Love 

Unfeigned" 134 

XXV. The County Families 142 

XXVI. The Boat-Race 151 

XXVII. The Custom-House 158 

XXVIII. The "Rob" Room 165 

XXIX. Vested Interests 171 

XXX. "The Auld Un'" 176 

XXXI. Church and State 182 

XXXII. The Chaplain to the Queen . . . 190 

XXXIII. The Retired Colonel 192 

XXXIV. A Problem in Casuistry 202 

XXXV. A Day of Trouble and Distress . . 210 

XXXVI. "One Every Minute" 217 

XXXVII. Angliaor Frontenac? 227 

[ x ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 



I 

THE LEGACY 

I was so sorry not to find you at the Rectory 
when I called this afternoon. And, what is 
worse, I fear we may not see you for a long 
time, if, as your housekeeper says, you are to be 
in California for a month. For before you re- 
turn we shall be gone! "Gone?" you will ask. 
"Where?" Well, I do not quite know. The 
fact is I am in such a whirl that I hardly know 
what I am writing! Perhaps it would be better 
if I began at the beginning. 

You know how overworked John has been for 
some time. He has not been sleeping well, and 
at times has been — well, almost cross ! — which 
means he is tired out. The culmination came on 
Good Friday. I left church before the conclusion 
of the three-hour service that I might reach home 
in time to have a cup of tea ready for him when 
he returned. You remember what a hot day it 
was. Well, I was standing by the open window 
in the study waiting to see him come round the 
corner, and Rex — the beautiful Irish setter which 
Mr. Dennis gave John — was with me. When John 
appeared he waved his hand to me and called 

[3] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

out "Hello, Rex!" and the poor dog, no doubt 
thinking he had called him to come, sprang from 
the window and fell the two flights, striking his 
head on the steps, and was instantly killed. I 
rushed down-stairs and found John looking as if 
he were about to faint. We carried the body into 
the laundry, and John, gazing upon it, groaned: 
" I wish it were I." You may imagine how fright- 
ened I was, but fortunately I had self-control 
enough to keep silence and led him away and in- 
duced him to drink a cup of strong tea. Then I 
brought out his pipe, and, though he murmured, 
"I have given it up for Lent," I said firmly, 
"You have not given it up for to-day." When 
he was resting I ran round the corner and asked 
Mr. Hathaway, the carpenter, to make a box for 
poor Rex, which he said he would do at once, for 
every one on the block loved him. Then I tele- 
phoned to Mabel Wheelock and asked her if she 
would be willing to have the dear creature buried 
on her place at Pelham. She was as sympathetic 
as if we had lost a member of the family — as in- 
deed we have. But how to get the body there I 
did not know ! I called up the hotel garage and 
learned that it would cost seven dollars to hire a 
taxi. It seemed more than we could pay, but I 
decided we must risk it. How I wished I had not 
bought that new hat for Easter ! 
When all was ready I called John and we started 
[4] 



THE LEGACY 



for Pelham, where we left the body of a creature 
of whom it could be said more truly than of many 
humans, that "he was faithful unto death." 
When we reached home I induced John to go to 
bed, and was soon thankful to find that he had 
fallen asleep. 

The next morning I went to the store where I 
had bought the hat and asked the woman to take 
it back. She was none too well pleased. But, 
as she had known me forever, she insisted upon 
knowing the reason, and when I told her the 
kind-hearted creature said: "Why, you poor 
thing, you keep that hat, and I'll take the price 
of the taxi off the bill. It will be good business, 
anyhow, for when that hat is seen on you there 
will be a run on them." You may think less of 
me, but I was so glad to keep it ! 

Then I went to see Dr. Webster. He listened 
to my story and then said: "Your husband is as 
sound as a dollar. I went all over him when he 
had that touch of bronchitis in January. But he 
has exhausted his nervous energy and must have 
a rest." "But," I said, "we cannot afford to go 
away." He answered gruffly: "You can't afford 
to keep on." 

We got through Easter somehow, and John did 
his part better than I supposed would be pos- 
sible. But when one of those "gushy" females, 
who are found in every church, said to me: "How 
[ 5 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

wonderful Mr. Dobson was to-day ! I don't see 
how he does it ! However, it cannot be a strain 
on him because he speaks so easily. If he had 
to prepare his sermons I don't suppose he could 
do it, with all the parish work he has to do!" 
That woman is called by some people "The salt 
of the earth." She may be, but it is salt in lumps, 
and I don't like it that way ! 

John slept the clock round on Easter night and 
it was nearly noon when he came down for a 
cup of coffee. There were not many letters, 
fortunately, but I had noticed one with the name 
of a well-known firm of lawyers on the envelope, 
and rather wondered what they could have to 
say. 

When John had read it he exclaimed: "Well, 
I'll be jiggered!" 

"What is it?" I asked. 

"Why, Aunt Susan is dead." 

"Is that the aunt who lived in California?" 

"Yes, she went out there nearly twenty years 
ago, and I do not suppose I have thought of her 
twice since." 

"Well, what has happened?" 

"Why, she has left me some money." 

"Oh, John !" I cried, thinking of what Dr. Web- 
ster had said. "It can't be true." 

"I guess it is," he replied. "Weeks & Burke 
are pretty responsible people, and they write: 

[6] 



THE LEGACY 



'By the will of the late Miss Susan B. Melchor,' 
etc." 

I know this sounds like the "long arm of coin- 
cidence," at which you mock, and you will say 
that such things do not happen outside of ro- 
mances. Well, wait a moment and you will see 
that this is connected with a romance and a 
rather pathetic one too. When I asked John 
about his aunt Susan, he could not tell me much. 
He said there was a tradition among his sisters — 
but he had nothing else to go upon — that when 
his father became engaged to his mother poor 
Aunt Susan was greatly shocked, for she had 
gotten it into her head that he had been attracted 
by her. For a long time there had been little 
intercourse between the sisters, but after the 
death of his father Aunt Susan had paid a visit 
to his mother, and taken a fancy to the little 
boy, who was supposed to resemble his father. 
She had only money enough to enable her to 
live in genteel poverty until she went to Cali- 
fornia, and there met a man whom she had known 
when she was a girl, and, following his advice, 
had invested her little all in a land specula- 
tion which, for a wonder, turned out well and 
brought her a modest fortune, which she now, 
or at least a part of it, bequeathed to the son of 
the man to whom she had given her heart in her 
girlhood. Certainly if the "long arm of coinci- 
[7] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

dence" is ever to be stretched out, this is a time 
when it might be expected to show its power ! 

When we learned the amount of the legacy it 
was evident that we should not be able to live 
on the income of it, though it would be a great 
help in supplementing a modest salary. But 
when I told John that I thought we should now 
be justified in taking a month off at Lakewood or 
somewhere like that, he vulgarly replied: "Lake- 
wood be blowed ! We are going to Europe to see 
some of the things we have dreamed about." 

"But that means we shall have to break into 
the capital." 

"Well," said he, "so long as we do not break 
into another's man's capital, I do not see how the 
law can interfere ! " 

I was so glad to feel his buoyant spirits again 
that I had not the heart to make further objec- 
tions. But I did add, as a final caution, that we 
must not forget that we ought to lay up for a 
rainy day. But he scorned this and said: "That 
is the way money poisons us. We hoard because 
we are afraid. At any rate it is far better for us 
at this time, instead of laying up for a rainy day, 
to lay down for a sunny day !" 

So that is what we are going to do. 



[8] 



THE SCHOOL OF INSTRUCTION 

II 

THE SCHOOL OF INSTRUCTION 

You have heard from Ruth of all the wonder- 
ful things that have happened to us, and that 
we are going abroad. But you have not heard 
that we are planning a motor trip. If you say that 
you are surprised, knowing that I have no motor, 
I can only reply, "Not more so than I." I had 
supposed Ruth would be content to go to Europe 
as most of our friends have gone. But no; she 
said a motor trip would be far more interesting. 
I was rather surprised for another reason: Ruth 
is so careful of the household expenses that when 
I suggested that motoring was a rather expensive 
amusement, she said it depended entirely upon 
how it was done ! We could buy a cheap car and 
dispense with the services of a chauffeur. In that 
way it would prove less expensive than travelling 
by train. "Think," said she, "what we should 
save on baggage ! and besides, instead of stopping 
at expensive hotels in the large towns, we can put 
up at any little inn. Moreover, we can take a 
lunch-basket and stop by the way at any place 
that takes our fancy and eat our lunch." 

I had memories of hearing something of the 
same sort the first time I went abroad — on a 
cattle steamer. I was told by a fellow traveller 
[9] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

that one could make a walking trip on the Con- 
tinent for five francs a day ! However, when I 
thought of Ruth's uncomplaining economies these 
many years, I said it was a fine idea. I did, how- 
ever, point out that I knew rather less about a 
motor than I do about a camel, but that objection 
also was quickly disposed of. "Did not James 
Hawkins drive his car? And had I not said, 
when he preached for us last Lent that he had 
the brain of a flea ? If he could learn to drive a 
car could not the man, who, the bishop said, etc. ? " 
Well, the result was I entered the School of 
Instruction conducted by "Professor" Patrick 
Quinn. I wish now I had gone to the Y. M. C. A., 
for the instruction would, no" doubt, have been as 
good, and the atmosphere more refined! Last 
winter I heard a paper read at a clerical meeting 
by an optimist on "The Decline of Profanity." 
The writer could never have been in a garage ! 
However, "Prof" Quinn knew his business, and 
cursed a little of his knowledge into me. There 
were times when we were both discouraged, as on 
the day when he pathetically told me that I should 
learn quicker if I wasn't so "damn awkward." 
But in spite of this drawback the time at last 
came when my "Boss" announced that on the 
following day he would take me out on the road. 
So the next day the "Professor" drove to Jerome 
Avenue, and then turned the car over to me. 
[ 10] 



THE SCHOOL OF INSTRUCTION 

Do you know how many posts there are on that 
trolley line? You do not! No one does who 
has not driven a car in and out among them. 
Probably you suppose them to be stationary. 
That is what I thought. But they move like 
Birnam wood ! 

Well, when my nerves were all on edge with 
trying to dodge the posts, I was ordered to pass 
a car just ahead of me. This I did triumphantly, 
and cut in ahead. Unfortunately, at that mo- 
ment its speed must suddenly have increased, for 
the rear hub of our car nicked a piece out of the 
front tire of the other car. What the driver of 
that car said I decline to repeat. It is not well 
you should know such things ! But I am now sure 
that the clerical essayist already alluded to knows 
more about Pelagianism than he does of the ver- 
nacular of New York. I confess I had a momen- 
tary unholy hope that my "Boss" would answer 
him in a way it would be sinful for me to imitate, 
but instead he asked me if I had a "pull" with the 
police. When I replied I had not he sarcasti- 
cally remarked that he supposed I must have, 
seeing how hard I was trying to "get run in." 

A few minutes later he directed me to run up 
to the Concourse. You may remember there is 
a sharp rise from Jerome Avenue, so thinking he 
wished to find out if I remembered his lecture 
"On the Art of Driving," in which he had empha- 

[ 11 1 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

sized the importance of "giving her gas" at the 
foot of a hill, and then "watch her pick up," I 
gave her gas and watched her pick up. Indeed 
the speed soon became alarming. At the top of 
the hill there is a sharp turn into the Concourse 
leading onto a bridge which spans the road on 
which a trolley line passes beneath. Onto this 
bridge, then, we whirled, the hub of the off rear 
wheel striking the corner of the buttress of the 
bridge and slewing us half-way round, so that the 
car was now headed toward the frail railing which 
marks rather than guards the roadway. I was 
still "giving her gas" — not knowing longer what 
I was doing — and have no doubt but that in an- 
other second we should have plunged below, had 
not the man wrenched the wheel from my hands 
and straightened the car out. 

I was fully prepared for profanity but not for 
the wailing prayer which issued from his fright- 
ened lips. I call it a prayer, for such it was in 
form, though the bitterness of his tone made it 
more dreadful than any oath. This is what he 
said: "0 my G — d, if ever I live to get home, 
I'll never do anything riskier than drivin' in a 
Vanderbilt Cup race." After this we changed 
places by mutual consent. 

It is surprising what a difference the road-bed 
makes in the running of a car ! At least I suppose 
it was due to that, for on Jerome Avenue the car 
[12] 



THE SCHOOL OF INSTRUCTION 

had run now fast now slow, while here it glided 
along the road as smoothly as a shell goes through 
the water when driven by the steady sweep of the 
oars. Can the driver have anything to do with 
it? I did not dare to ask the "Boss," for it was 
evident that he was " mad at me." Another thing 
surprised me. Again and again he refused per- 
fectly good chances to cut in ahead of another 
car, instead of which he would drop back and 
wait until there was plenty of room, and then 
run alongside of his rival until he could easily 
take the lead. I found, however, that this timid 
policy, as I was inclined to call it, was really 
Fabian, for we passed each car in turn. More- 
over, he did not seem to regard the drivers of 
other cars as his natural enemies, as seemed to 
me inevitable, but, on the contrary, spoke pleas- 
antly to several and called not a few "brother." 
But when I asked him if all the family was in the 
business, he gruffly requested me "not to kid 
him." Indeed, it was evident that he had ceased 
swearing at me because he regarded me as hope- 
less. I therefore decided not to return to the 
school, even though I failed to receive the diploma 
which, he had assured me at my entrance, would 
insure me a first-class job. 



[ 13] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 



III 
"FOOL PROOF" 

It will be remembered that it had been our 
intention to buy a cheap car. However, we did 
not, because Ruth decided that this would not 
be so economical as we had supposed ! First, we 
looked at the smallest and cheapest car on the 
market. It was a two-cylinder, not much larger 
than a perambulator, and as noisy as a donkey- 
engine. The salesman said that for himself he 
did not care for one of those perfectly silent cars : 
"There is too much danger of accidents. You 
come upon people suddenly, before they have 
time to jump, and the first thing you know you 
have a ten-thousand-dollar suit on your hands. 
But with this car there is no such danger, for 
people have time to get out of the way before 
they are hurt." I must say this impressed me, 
but Ruth, who knows nothing of the dangers of 
driving, remarked that she did not think people 
would be much hurt if that car did hit them. 
"Besides," she added, "no conversation would be 
possible in such a car." 

The man replied that there was not much chance 

in a car where you were blowing the Klaxon all 

the time. "And, now," he said, "let me give 

you a demonstration." To this we agreed, but 

[14] 



"FOOL PROOF" 



as there was room for but one besides the driver, 
he suggested that I should try it first. So I 
chugged round the block while the demonstrator 
explained how many miles "she" would do on a 
gallon, and how little oil it took to lubricate 
"her." But when it came Ruth's turn, the en- 
gine stalled, and no power would move it. So 
we did not buy that one. 

Well, we looked at many cars of many makes, 
but the cheap ones were uncomfortable, and the 
comfortable ones were too dear, and I was almost 
in despair, for the time was passing and I felt 
that I must have a little time to practise driving 
before starting on such a journey as we had 
planned. But a chance word decided me. We 
were looking at a "Frontenac." It was a most 
attractive-looking "runabout," and Ruth said it 
"fitted her back" better than any we had seen, 
and so, though the price was more than we had 
intended to pay, I saw she had set her heart upon 
it, and was asking myself if I could not economize 
somewhere else and let her have what she wanted, 
when the salesman, who of course was a mind- 
reader, remarked: "This is a new model. We 
built it because there was no car on the market 
built for a 'gentleman's' use. You see, no one 
with this car would need a chauffeur, though, as 
you may have noticed, there is a seat which folds 
up, so that if one wished to pick up a friend, or 
[ 15] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

take a chauffeur for a special occasion, it could be 
done." Then he added, as if speaking to himself, 
while he laid his hand caressingly on the mud- 
guard: "What I like about this car is that she is 
practically 'FOOL PROOF.'" He had spoken 
the inevitable word. That was the kind of car I 
had been looking for ! Then followed an explana- 
tion of the " self-starter" — "something found on 
no other car." I hesitated no longer. I paid the 
deposit and he said the car was mine. It was not 
cheap, but, as the testimonials say, "If I could 
not buy its mate I would not sell it for twice the 
amount I paid!" 

One does not receive a car the day one pays 
for it. There are still many things to buy in the 
way of accessories, and as a result the car was not 
in my hands until the day before I was required 
to turn it over to the shipper. I therefore had 
time only to drive around the park three times be- 
fore I was required to deliver the car at the dock. 

I was glad to find that I did better alone than 
when profanity was being barked into my ear at 
every turn ! 

Of course I stalled several times through failure 
to "give her gas," but the self-starter had taken 
the sting out of that, and I drove back to the 
garage feeling that I was now prepared to risk 
the two most precious lives in the world with a 
fair margin of safety ! 

[ 16] 



"DER KAISER WILHELM DER ZWEITE" 

IV 
"DER KAISER WILHELM DER ZWEITE" 

You have crossed the North Atlantic too often 
to be bothered with an account of our trip. We 
ate too much — indeed, I am told the temptation 
to do so is greater on these boats than on any 
except those of the French Line — and also we 
took too little exercise. And yet we seem none 
the worse for it! Possibly that was due, in my 
case, to the fact that I slept a great deal, and that 
when I was not sleeping or eating I lay in my 
deck-chair and wondered how any one could ever 
worry! Is it not surprising how the petty 
worries of life drop overboard at Sandy Hook? 
This cannot be true, I suppose, of the foolish 
men who keep in touch with the office by wire- 
less, but it was true of us. Yet one day I was 
startled by hearing my name called by a page, 
who ran along the deck with a slip of paper in his 
hand. Fortunately, it was only a word of greet- 
ing from the Stoddards, who were returning on 
the France, and sent us a message of good-will. 

I did, however, have certain experiences which 
were unusual. The first night out I was sitting 
in the drafty and fearfully decorated smoking- 
room when a man approached me and asked if I 
would take a hand at poker. I declined politely 
[ 17] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

but he insisted, urging that it was "only a friendly 
game, twenty-five cents a point." I again de- 
clined, saying I did not play. He returned to his 
friend and remarked in a loud tone: "De trouble 
mit men who hafe lifed all der lives in a village is 
dat ven dey meet a stranger, dey tink he must 
be a con man." 

On Sunday morning we were wakened by the 
band, which played, beautifully, "Ein Feste 
Burg." I supposed that would be the only Sunday 
observance, and was not a little surprised to re- 
ceive a message from the captain, asking me to 
hold service in the Lounge. This I did, the full 
band assisting. There were a number of Ameri- 
cans aboard, and most of them attended. But 
what surprised me greatly was to notice a number 
of Jews, several of whom later spoke to me and 
expressed their satisfaction. They said that they 
did not know that we used the Old Testament in 
our service! I asked one of them, a cultivated 
man, if he attended the synagogue. He shook 
his head sadly and said, not since he was a boy, 
unless it were to go to a funeral, and added that 
this was true of thousands of cultivated Jews. I 
said it seemed to me a dreadful thing that the 
race which had given the greatest spiritual gifts 
to mankind should be losing interest in the highest 
ideals of life, and asked if it were not possible for 
them to find m some form of Christianity, which, 
[ 18] 



"DER KAISER WILHELM DER ZWEITE" 

after all, was an evolution of Judaism, the satis- 
faction their souls must crave. He looked at me 
for a moment, and then said bitterly: "If Chris- 
tians began by treating us as if we were human, 
perhaps we might be willing to listen to their 
gospel of brotherhood." I wonder if, instead of 
a Society for the Conversion of the Jews, we do 
not need a Society for the Conversion of Chris- 
tians ! 

This service was memorable for another reason. 
For the first time in my life I prayed for the 
Kaiser. Indeed, it was the first time I had ever 
heard him prayed for ! This gave great satisfac- 
tion to the German-Americans, who, while they 
are glad to enjoy the liberty of the Republic, 
their hearts, without doubt, certainly many of 
them, are with the Fatherland. They may, some 
day, become a menace to us should we ever have 
trouble with Germany. But that is not likely in 
spite of our experience in Manila Bay ! But, in- 
deed, I do not see why we should complain of 
them when we think of the attitude of the Eng- 
lish who make their homes with us. How many 
Englishmen of the better class do you know who 
have been naturalized? Not a score, I venture 
to say. They write letters to the English papers, 
and sometimes to our own, complaining of the 
iniquities of Tammany Hall, but do not lift the 
burden with one of their little fingers. 
[ 19] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

However, you will have had enough of this! 
How inevitably we parsons take to preaching 
when we are not fooling ! 

We reached Plymouth on a lovely evening and 
glided into the harbor as quietly as you bring your 
knockabout to its mooring. I was much im- 
pressed by the discipline of the crew. There was 
neither shouting nor confusion, and the great 
ship dropped anchor as quietly as a ferry-boat 
comes into its slip. One thing, however, sur- 
prised me. As soon as we entered the harbor a 
sound of firing was heard, and little water-spouts 
shot up all over the surface of the water. They 
were evidently harmless mines being exploded 
from the batteries on shore. Still I wondered 
they did not cease while the captain was engaged 
in such a delicate operation, and it did not seem 
in keeping with the English sporting spirit. I 
spoke to one of the officers about it, and he re- 
plied, with much dignity: "The English do this 
each time we enter one of their harbors. It does 
no harm, and is only a childish way of showing 
their hatred of our merchant marine, which is 
their only serious rival. But it is a mistake, as 
they will some day learn." 

Of course there may be no truth in this, and the 

explosions at that particular time may have been 

only a coincidence, but it is sad that such bad 

feeling should exist between these two great na- 

[ 20] 



THE CAR ARRIVES 



tions as to make it possible for such tilings to be 
believed. The Germans are talking most fool- 
ishly about "Der Tag," but English plays and 
novels, and even such a paper as the Spectator, are 
helping to sow the seeds of suspicion. That in 
this day England and Germany will go to war is, 
I believe, thought possible only by the "retired 
admirals." But the mere suspicion leads to fear, 
and that, in turn, might lead to war. 

Well, here I am talking politics, which is more 
tiresome than preaching ! 



V 

THE CAR ARRIVES 

On reaching London we found that the freight 
steamer on which the car had been shipped had 
not yet arrived. As Ruth was most anxious to 
see her sister, who lives in Yorkshire, she was 
persuaded to proceed by train and leave me to 
bring on the car alone. This was, indeed, a 
happy solution of a problem which had caused me 
some anxiety. I was quite ready to risk one 
valuable life, but did not care to risk two ! 

The next day I received word that the Georgic 

had arrived at the Tilbury docks, and that the 

car was being held "at the risk of the owner." I 

had been advised to take a chauffeur with me and 

[21 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

not to attempt to drive the car into London my- 
self, which advice I followed. 

When we arrived at Tilbury, which is about 
twenty-five miles from London, we found the 
car, still in its crate, standing on the docks. 
There were few formalities to be complied with, 
and a carpenter was soon at work opening the case. 

While waiting I fell into conversation with the 
third officer, who had charge of the unloading of 
the vessel, and expressed my admiration of the 
docks, and said I wished we had some equal to 
them in New York. He admitted they were a 
fine bit of work, but said that the possibilities of 
our port were the greatest in the world. "I have 
often wished," he added, "that I might see that 
port fifty years hence. You see, it is the only 
great city in the world that is directly on the 
sea, and therefore has much the same advantage 
now that Venice had of old. The East River, 
being as it were a canal, connecting New York 
Bay with Long Island Sound, and the Hudson 
being an estuary of the sea, the largest ships can 
dock almost in the heart of the city, discharge 
cargo, then load again and pass out at any tide. 
Nowhere else is such a thing possible." 

I said I was thinking rather of the cleanliness 
and "smartness" of the docks than of their 
convenience. 

" I grant you," he said, "that we beat you there. 
[22] 



THE CAR ARRIVES 



But already you are replacing your old wooden 
docks with concrete, which will last as long as 
stone. The reason your docks are not so clean 
as ours is because of the high price of unskilled 
labor with you. If we had to pay twelve shillings 
a day to the man who sweeps and tidies up, we 
should have to have the work done twice a week 
as you do." 

"Well," said I, "that means that we shall never 
be able to have docks and streets as clean as 
yours." 

"If it did," he replied, "there are better things 
than neatness. Neatness may imply poverty on 
the part of labor, and poverty leads to drink and 
so to the breeding of more poverty." 

"Still," I urged, "though neatness may imply 
poverty, slovenliness shows a lack of self-respect. 
A city that cannot keep its front door-step clean 
is a bad neighbor." 

He laughed at this homely illustration but said 
the solution of the problem must be found in 
another way. "It is all very well to talk of the 
'dignity' of labor, but where is the dignity in 
sweeping up dung? — perhaps taking up the last 
of it in one's hands. No man does it willingly, 
he is driven to it by necessity." 

I quoted: 

"Are these things necessities? 
Then let us meet them like necessities." 
[23] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

"You may be surprised to learn that a sailor 
knows his Shakespeare, but I read a play every 
voyage, and so I recognize that great speech of 
the king. But the question is are these things 
necessities? I say no. Machinery must be, and 
I believe will be, invented to do the work which 
no self-respecting man ought to be asked to do 
habitually. Some day we shall have great vac- 
uum cleaners to do such work, and then you 
will have your docks and streets as clean as ours, 
and at half the price." 

I should like to have had more talk with this 
intelligent young officer, but the car was now 
ready, so the chauffeur and I took our places on 
the front seat. 

At that moment a wretched specimen of the 
casual laborer appeared, and, touching his greasy 
cap, inquired: "Shall I wind her up, Guv'ner?" 
I nodded and he stooped down to find the handle. 
Then he looked up with a grin, remarking: "You 
'ave fergot the 'andle, sir!" Meanwhile I had 
touched the self-starter; the little electric engine 
had begun to hum, there was a click and the car 
glided away. I tossed the poor wretch a shilling, 
but he was too astonished to say "Thank you." 
He simply exclaimed, in a dazed way, "Well, I'm 
damned!" There was a cheer from the by- 
standers, and we slipped through the gate and 
turned toward London. 

[24] 



THE CAR ARRIVES 



The chauffeur took the wheel, and of course the 
talk turned upon cars. He admitted that the 
American cars were "smart" and wonderfully 
cheap, but declared that they could not compare 
with English cars in durability. "They tell me 
that at the end of a year you American gentlemen 
turn in your cars, at a great loss, and get a new 
one in exchange. But an English car will be as 
good after five years as this will be at the end of 
one. So, I do not see there is much saved." 

I said we found it cheaper to scrap an old ma- 
chine than to run up a bill for repairs. 

He replied: "That may be, because wages are 
so high, but in the long run the American car is 
the more expensive." 

"But you must remember," I replied, "that 
every year there are improvements." 

But he shrewdly remarked : " There are changes ; 
I do not know that they are always improve- 
ments. " 

It was fascinating to watch this skilful driver 
thread his way through the traffic; so well did he 
manage that in a much shorter time than I 
had supposed would be possible, we reached 
the garage, in a street not far from Leicester 
Square. 

There were things enough still to do to occupy 
the rest of the day — the grease, with which the 
brass work had been smeared to protect it en 
[25] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

route, removed, the car cleaned and polished, and 
the batteries filled with distilled water, which 
could be obtained only from a "chemist," and all 
valves and bolts tested. Then there were last 
purchases to be made, to insure comfort in a 
climate in which, even in summer, the American 
shivers like a Mexican hairless dog! So it was 
not till the next afternoon that, the chauffeur still 
driving, we started on our great adventure. 



VI 

THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 

I had supposed we should go north at once, in- 
stead of which the driver headed west through 
Regent Park, thus avoiding the narrow and 
crowded thoroughfares of East London, which 
stretch far to the north. Then, by by-ways 
which a stranger could never have found, we came 
to Hatfield, where I had planned to spend the 
night, and there the chauffeur left me. I confess 
that when I parted with him I felt as I have heard 
the sick say they felt when the nurse departed — 
both weak and lonely ! 

The imi at Hatfield is called the "Purple Cow," 
or by the name of some other zoological curiosity, 
but was comfortable enough except that its prox- 
[ 26] 



THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 



imity to the tracks of the Great Northern Railway 
makes it as conducive to sleep as a room on the 
"L" at home! 

There is no garage connected with the inn of 
uncertain name, but there are vast stables, now, 
alas, well-nigh empty. The ancient ostler looks 
with no kindly eye on motors, but he was, I think, 
more favorably disposed toward me when I 
showed an interest in his tales of former days, 
when, so he said, as many as a hundred horses 
had found bed and fodder at one time under his 
care. This, of course, was in the good old coach- 
ing days, which he could remember as a boy, be- 
fore railroads had changed the face of England. 
Indeed this continued, he said, for a long time 
after that, while gentlemen still travelled in thei 
carriages. But the motor-car had given the 
coup de grace, and in his mind's eye the old man 
could now see "Ichabod" inscribed across the 
long, low front of the building which had once 
echoed to the songs of postboys and the neighing 
of many steeds. So, when he declined to wash 
the car, saying he "knew nothing of such things," 
I could not find it in my heart either to protest 
or to lessen his tip when I departed. Rather I 
felt the same sort of sympathy with him which I, 
a stanch Protestant, felt when I saw in France 
or Italy, old monks wandering through the aisles 
of some deserted abbey. From both the glory 
[ 27 1 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

had departed, and utility can never have the 
charm of beauty. 

I was the only guest at the inn, and instead of 
ordering a chop, as any one but an American 
would have done, I foolishly said I should like 
"dinner." Therefore I was served with soup — 
enough for a bath — a large fish, and a roast chicken, 
followed by a huge tart ! When I saw the bill I 
remembered Ruth's prophecy that we should save 
money by stopping at small inns! There was 
enough left to feed the inn-keeper's family for a 
week. Perhaps it did ! 

After dinner I strolled to the gates of "Hatfield 
House" and looked up the long avenue, but catch- 
ing only a glimpse of the hall. There came to 
my mind certain articles by Godkin, in the Nation, 
in which he had spoken with biting sarcasm of 
Lord Salisbury, and then I recalled what A. V. 
G. Allen used to say, that "Salisbury was the 
typical Englishman." You know what a radical 
Allen was in theology; yet he was a Tory in Eng- 
lish politics. From Salisbury the mind naturally 
rebounded to Gladstone, the political Liberal but 
the ecclesiastical reactionary. Such musings led 
me to ask myself if nature did not arrange our 
temperaments as a clock-maker does the pen- 
dulum of a grandfather clock, of metals with 
different expansive qualities, lest a man be rad- 
ical or conservative a outrance? Turning such 
[ 28] 



THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 



thoughts over in my mind in that dreamy fashion 
which is so delightful because it calls for no ac- 
tion, I turned back to the inn, "and so to bed." 

Next morning the weather was apparently "set 
fair," and I drove out of the stable-yard in good 
spirits. Mile after mile I drove sedately on, 
gaining confidence with each hour. When I had 
inquired of the dreary ostler what road to take to 
Yorkshire, he had replied, in surprise, "The north 
road. There ben't no other, so you can't miss it." 
Little he knew what I am capable of! 

The roads are all so good that it is not as easy 
as one would suppose to keep to the great high- 
way. There are no "mud roads" branching from 
the pike, as in Pennsylvania, where the difference 
is evident at a glance. So, when I had overcome 
the first nervousness and begun to take notice of 
the country, glancing first to the right to watch 
the cattle feeding in the deep meadow, and then 
to the left where the wheat was almost ready for 
the harvest, and speculating on the yield as com- 
pared with the new land at home, it is not strange 
that I should have diverged from the right way. 
Indeed it was not alone "the things which are 
seen" which caused me to err, there was also the 
"unseen" which filled the mind's eye. For this 
was not the first time by any means that I had 
travelled the Great North Road! I had trod it 
on foot with dear Jeanie Deans, thankful for an 
[29] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

occasional "cast in a cart," and by coach with 
Mr. Squeers, and in the pleasant company of Mr. 
Pickwick also, if I am not mistaken. Well, the 
result of all this contemplation of things, "visible 
and invisible," was that when I finally inquired 
the way, I found I was more than twenty miles 
too far to the eastward — not far, indeed, from 
Cambridge. I found, moreover, that human na- 
ture is the same on the country roads of England 
as at home! For the laborer to whom I spoke 
showed the same superiority that one notices in 
those foolish people who get up early in the morn- 
ing as they greet the late riser! He told me I 
must retrace my road for some miles to get again 
on the North road. But as this is a thing I de- 
test, I insisted that by keeping on I should ulti- 
mately regain the road I had lost. He reluctantly 
admitted this might be done, if I kept on as far 
as Royston. As all places were now the same to 
me, this is what I decided to do, much to his dis- 
appointment I am sure, for he would have liked 
to see me pay the penalty of my folly. 

As you have no doubt mentioned in more than 
one of your sermons, "Disappointments are often 
blessings in disguise." Tins proved to be one of 
them, for it led me back into an England older 
than that of Scott or Dickens — even to the Eng- 
land of Fielding ! 

[30] 



THE ENGLAND OF FIELDING 



VII 

THE ENGLAND OF FIELDING 

Again I was the only guest at the inn which was 
called, perhaps, "The Dappled Hart," but there 
was an excellent dinner waiting for any who 
might stop. There was lamb as tender as one 
could wish, and peas which had not been withered 
by transportation, and a cherry tart, over which 
custard had been poured, which, I fear, came out 
of a bottle such as the advertisements on the 
boardings illustrate with a picture of a greedy 
little girl waiting impatiently to be helped ! When 
I praised the freshness of the peas the young 
woman, who served me none too graciously, I 
know not why, unless because I had no chauffeur, 
said they had been picked in the garden that same 
morning. This menu, I may say, seldom changed, 
though sometimes the lamb had grown to mutton, 
or even changed to some other animal; but, what- 
ever the meat was called, it was invariably excel- 
lent, and far better cooked than one would find 
in a place of the same size at home. 

When I had dined, or, as there was no soup, I 
suppose I should say lunched, I asked if I might 
smoke. But the uncompromising young woman 
said "Certainly not," and pointed the way to the 
bar. This was reached by crossing the paved 
[31] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

way which led from the side street to the stables, 
passing under an archway. The bar proved to 
be a low, damp room, in which, I think, if one sat 
long alcohol would become a necessity. There 
were several small tables arranged for those who 
wished to be semiprivate, but I noticed that the 
few customers preferred to lean against the bar 
and talk to the landlord, much as in the saloons 
at home. After a casual glance they paid no 
attention to me, and I sipped my coffee and 
smoked my pipe in silence. 

Then a man entered who seemed to be a stranger, 
but who evidently knew the Masonic sign, for he 
soon fell into conversation with them. He was* 
evidently what we call a "drummer," but had 
none of the jollying manner of the guild as we 
know it, for there were long pauses in the conver- 
sation. Then entered a man who was evidently 
quite at home, and felt himself to be of some im- 
portance. He immediately began to lay down 
the law on every subject mentioned, to which the 
others submitted meekly. But not the drummer ! 
He too had his opinions, and was willing to have 
them known, and, encouraged by the landlord, 
plucked up spirit and began to give as well as 
take. I now anticipated some interesting talk, 
and was not disappointed. The dominating man 
had ordered whiskey and soda, or rather it had 
been prepared by the landlord as if he were familiar 
[ 32] 



THE ENGLAND OF FIELDING 



with his customer's taste. As he slowly sipped it 
he looked at me, as much as to say: "My friend, 
I shall make short work of you when I am ready." 
But I was saved by the drummer. He began by 
explaining some of the inconveniences to which 
a stranger, such as he, is subjected in a strange 
town, and rashly suggested that provincial Eng- 
land would be improved by the establishment of 
places of "Convenience," such as every traveller 
on the Continent is familiar with. 

This is what the village doctor — for such I now 
learned he was — was waiting for. He took high 
moral ground and proved to his own satisfaction 
— and I think carried the house with lnm — that 
this would be the beginning of the end of English 
morality. "Did the gentleman mean to suggest 
that England should become as France?" 

The gentleman "meant to suggest nothing of 
the sort," and rather cleverly shifted the ground 
from the moral to the physical. But here, of 
course the doctor was too much for him, remark- 
ing with a complacent smile: "I think I may be 
allowed to speak with a little authority on that 
aspect of the question, being a medical man 
myself." 

I do not know how great his authority may 
have been, but I can answer for his dogmatism ! 
How often the two are confused ! 

If you were not temporarily blind and so de- 
[33] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

pendent upon Miss Fuller to read your letters, I 
would repeat the conversation which followed in 
full. Not that there was anything improper in 
it. The disputants were as solemn as if they were 
discussing religion, only they "called a spade a 
spade." But we have grown so squeamish, or 
so immoral, that we hide "Tom Jones" under the 
sofa-cushion and place "The Visits of Elizabeth" 
on the parlor table. But rural England, I learned 
that day, while it has changed superficially, is 
still the England of Fielding. Squire Westons 
can still be found in certain counties — indeed 
Dogberry is not unknown in remote villages. 

When I had listened to as much as I dared 
without bursting with laughter, which came when 
the landlord stoutly declared that his "midden" 
was not public property, I escaped to the stable- 
yard and, as I drove by the bar-window, heard 
the exasperating voice of the doctor proclaiming, 
"Indeed, I could tell you of a case, not five miles 
from here, to which, if I had not been called 
immediately," etc. 



[ 34 



THE END OF THE NORTH ROAD 

VIII 
THE END OF THE NORTH ROAD 

I suppose my mind was full of Fielding and the 
essential immobility of the English character, 
which illustrates so well Goethe's saying, "Men 
change but Man remains the same," when I was 
jerked as it were out of the eighteenth century 
into the twentieth by the violent blowing of a 
motor-horn. Looking up I saw a large touring- 
car, driven at great speed and heading straight 
for me. I blew my horn in reply, and expected 
to see the approaching car swerve to the other side 
of the road. But, instead, it came rushing on, 
and a head-on ^collision seemed inevitable. It was 
now too late to escape by turning out, and so, 
not knowing what to do, I did what proved to be 
the best thing possible, I brought my car to a 
sudden stop and waited for the impact ! I sup- 
posed the driver of the other car was drunk. But 
evidently he was not so drunk as to plunge into 
another car, for, with a frightful grinding of 
brakes he checked his car, the headlights of the 
two almost touching. 

I was too confused to say anything, and so we 

sat for a moment gazing at one another. He 

spoke first, and you may imagine my surprise 

when he said, in a tolerant tone: "Drunk?" To 

[35 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

have my suspicion of him so quickly thrown back 
upon me so paralyzed me that I was speechless, 
and simply continued to stare. 

"I say," finally remarked my opponent, "are 
you going to turn out, or are you looking for 
trouble?" 

There was a lady, or perhaps it would be more 
accurate to say a female, sitting in the tonneau, 
and she suddenly called out: "Henry, it is an 
American, and he is on the wrong side of the 
road!" 

It was true ! In spite of warnings and good in- 
tentions, I had left the car in charge of what De 
Maistre calls one's bete, but what we think it 
more elegant to call the "subconscious," while 
my "self" had slipped back into the past to hold 
converse with the mighty. 

It was a foolish-looking "bete" which smiled at 
the lady. But there was no answering smile. 
Indeed, she was quite enraged, and while her 
husband — I hope it was her husband — backed his 
car and crossed to the other side of the road, 
much as one would go round a sweep rather than 
touch him, she stood up in the car and, in a tone 
worthy of Mrs. Raddles, told me what she thought 
of me and of my unhappy country. It was not 
"hands," it was "claws," across the sea! 

Well, I learned a good deal that day: first, that 
in England the right side of the road is the wrong 
I 36 ] 



THE END OF THE NORTH ROAD 

side, and, second, that while a "soft answer may 
turn away wrath," there is nothing that so exas- 
perates an angry woman as to sit silent and smile 
like an imbecile ! 

I had intended to pass the night at Grantham, 
but finding it would make too long a day at the 
rate at which I was travelling, I turned aside to 
Peterborough. 

My education in motoring progressed by learn- 
ing something about the rate of travelling. I had 
been told that twenty miles an hour was a safe 
and comfortable speed, and consequently seldom 
allowed the speedometer to rise above that figure. 
But when I found how often I had to slow down 
in passing through a village, and to stop altogether 
in towns on account of traffic, I found that one 
must keep pretty steadily at "thirty" to average 
twenty miles an hour. 

To this rule ought to be added the remark that 
the driver who has an instinct for getting off the 
road loses more time in a day than is expected ! 

The entrance to the stable-yard at the inn in 
Peterborough, as is frequently the case in old inns, 
leads under a narrow archway. These were built 
when the farmer's two-wheeled gigs were the 
vogue and were no inconvenience to the driver. 
But it requires skilful management to turn a 
motor into one without touching the brickwork 
on either side. If the hub of a gig collided with 
[ 37 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

the masonry, it was the brickwork which gave 
way. But the mud-guard of a motor is about 
as pliable as metal can well be. If an archway 
could speak it would doubtless have many a joy- 
ful thing to say about these new-fangled machines ! 
How proudly they roll up the High Street ! How 
timidly they turn the corner into the narrow way ! 
How fearfully they crawl toward the opening in 
the yard ! The reckless gigs took the turning 
with a careless swing and, not infrequently, nipped 
the buttress, as the deep groove in the brickwork 
shows. Alas! I had not yet learned caution, 
and a crumpled mud-guard was the penalty. The 
grinning ostler did what he could to bend it 
into shape, but never again would it have the 
smart appearance it once had, and every chauffeur 
would look with scorn on the foolish man who had 
tried to do what the natty gigs had often done 
and been none the worse for! We are a swifter 
race than our fathers, but a motor will no more 
stand what the old carts did than a chauffeur can 
drink as did those old Jehus, without paying a 
heavy penalty. 

There was still time to see the cathedral before 
the doors would be closed for the night, and 
thither I took my way. You know the great 
church too well for me to dwell upon it. It is not 
one of the greatest of the English cathedrals; it 
lacks the majesty of the great fortress at Durham; 
[38] 



THE END OF THE NORTH ROAD 

it has not the intricate — I had almost said self- 
conscious — beauty of Lincoln; it is not so vast 
as Ely, which, as I once heard you say, "rises 
out of the Fens as if typifying the conquest of 
heathendom by the Cross"; nor is it so rich in 
architectural treasures as Gloucester — but how 
impressive is its simple dignity! Here, I think, 
one feels less than in the others that it was in- 
tended for another service — that is for the wor- 
ship of another God ! Here is enshrined the 
block-like solidity of the English character. 
When, next morning, I listened to the familiar 
words, "Our fathers have told us what thou hast 
done, in their time of old," I felt that the setting 
was perfect for that liturgy which has been the 
most successful in building a bridge by which the 
souls of men might pass from a Ptolemaic to a 
Darwinian universe. 

The car "pulled" well, and there were no ex- 
citing incidents to report for the next two days. 
The road runs through Grantham and then 
through Newark, where the beautiful spire of the 
parish church rises from the market-place. Here, 
too, a fine bridge crosses the Trent. But I looked 
in vain for the "monstrous cantle" winch Hot- 
spur complained the river "cranking in" had cut 
out ! Perhaps it was not here but at some other 
part of the river, or perhaps it was not true at all, 
and Hotspur was only trying to get a "rise" out 
[39] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

of Glendower! It is no matter. It only came 
to my mind as I saw the Trent for the first time. 

Donchester comes next, but as I did not pass 
by the race-course, I can give you no tips ! 

After this the road enters the rolling Yorkshire 
hills, where, if the surface were not so good, 
changes of gear would be frequent, so sharp are 
the rises of the short hills. 

In the early afternoon the towers of Fountain's 
Abbey rose above the tree-tops, but I did not 
stop, for I was more than ready for tea, and, more- 
over, I hasted to reach the "Beeches," where I 
knew a cordial English welcome, mixed with a 
dash of American "gush," awaited me. 



IX 

AN ENGLISH INTERIOR 

John said this morning that he was so busy I 
must write. He added that as all his letters had 
been "outsides," mine must be an "inside"! 

If you ask what keeps him busy, the answer is 
the car. He and the chauffeur of the house are, 
I think, breaking the motor to pieces. Not that 
there was anything the matter with it so far as I 
could see, but John said it was "not pulling just 
right," which, I believe, is like the small boy's 
[40] 



AN ENGLISH INTERIOR 



excuse for taking a watch to pieces. He wants 
to see the "wheels go round" ! At any rate, the 
stable-yard is a sight ! And so is John ! The 
chauffeur has been dragged away from the fas- 
cinating game, but a boy of about fourteen is 
acting as "plumber assistant." I stepped out for 
a moment and heard John say, "Here, Will- 
iam, hand me that spanner," and William reply: 
"Spanner, sir, yes, sir, spanner." John caught 
my eye and grinned, and at the same instant I 
caught William winking at "cook," for which, I 
venture the guess, he will be disciplined, for fa- 
miliarity does not have much chance to breed 
contempt in the servants' hall ! However, I re- 
membered that if this is to be an "inside" letter, 
I must go inside to write it. 

We have now been here a little more than a 
week, and I am filled with admiration, not, I fear, 
unmixed with envy, at the way this great house 
seems to run itself. Of course, being a woman, my 
first interest was in the "servant problem," which, 
so far as I can see, does not exist. Sir Thomas is 
not rich as we count riches, but there are servants 
enough, I should think, to run a hotel ! And such 
servants! Trim, neat, perfectly trained, and 
always respectful. Of course, in England serving 
is a profession — once a servant always a servant- — 
which must have what you would call a psychologi- 
cal effect. Then servants and masters are of the 
[41 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

same race and have the same religion. Surely 
there must be a spiritual bond between people 
who begin the day's work with prayer. 

I talked this over with Maud. She began to 
say, " In forming one's opinion on facts with which 
one is not familiar," but I stopped her, saying: 
"That won't do. You are talking just like 
Thomas." She blushed a little at this, but an- 
swered defiantly: "Well, he is a good person to 
talk like." 

"No," I answered, "no one is good to talk like." 

She laughed at this queer sentence and then, 
with a true Yankee drawl, imitating old Captain 
Hyde, of Silver Harbor, said: "Well, by Godfrey, 
I ain't never seen a pancake so thin it didn't have 
a nunder side!" 

"Well," said I, "what is the under side to this 
pancake?" 

"It is this: while it is true we pay about half 
as much for servants here as we do at home, on 
the other hand, we must have twice the number. 
Everything is so specialized that if one were to 
ask the parlor-maid to do a piece of work which 
properly belongs to the housemaid, it would be 
like asking Dr. Shattuck to pull a tooth!" 

"Do you mean that in case of sickness one of 
them would not lend a hand with another's 
work?" 

" Oh, I don't mean that literally, but it would be 
[ 42] 



AN ENGLISH INTERIOR 



a favor that could not be counted on, and if it 
happened often enough to have the look of estab- 
lishing a precedent — unless you have lived in 
England you can have no understanding of what 
a precedent means — she would probably 'give 
warning,' and if you think it pleasant to live in 
the house for a month with a young person who 
has given warning, you are mistaken!" 

"Well, why not pay her a month's wages and 
ler her go?" 

"You cause me to smile ! In the first place, it 
would be considered extravagant, and, besides, 
it might do the girl an injustice. It might be 
thought a reflection on her character. The 'jus- 
tice' of the English is, in my opinion, carried to 
an extreme! Nor are these the only reasons. 
You can't imagine the difficulties of replacing a 
servant. Endless questions have to be asked, 
such as whether she is Church of England or 
' Chapel,' and much more intimate questions that 
you would think — and so do I — are none of one's 
business. It is not as it was in Boston, where if 
Mary Maloney said 'I think I'll be leaving you,' 
all you had to do would be to step around into 
Charles Street and tell your troubles to Mrs. 
McCarthy, and, behold ! she would have 'A noice 
girrl, not long over, not knowin' all the ways, 
maybe, but willin' to learn, and comin' of decent 
people.' It is true she wouldn't know a dust- 
[43 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

pan from a skillet, but she would do what she 
was told, and soon have an interest in the family 
and be loyal to them. 

"She would not join in family prayers, and in- 
deed at first would run out into the pantry when 
papa said grace, but in case of sickness she would 
take part of her afternoon 'off' to go to church 
to pray for the baby, or maybe burn a candle to 
the saint who specialized in your trouble ! They 
are not neat, they are not well trained, they are 
not bigoted about truth, but they are human!" 

"Maud Simpson!" I cried, "how many times 
have I heard you say: 'If I only had nice English 
servants I should ask for nothing more in life'? 
I don't believe you mean it." 

"Well, perhaps I don't. The fact is that under- 
housemaid spoke to me this morning with that 
correct insolence one cannot take hold of, and I 
have been feeling all day as if I would rather be 
'sassed' by Katie Hogan!" 



X 

HUSBAND AND WIFE 

It was not till later in the day that I had an 

opportunity of continuing my conversation with 

Maud, and when I did I took it up where we had 

left it, and said: "Well, at any rate there is no 

[ 44 1 



HUSBAND AND WIFE 



1 under side ' to the Miles ' pancake ' ! Miles, I 
should explain, is the 'Nanny' or nurse. 

"Really," said she, "that is almost literally 
true. She is wonderful." 

"Why is it," I asked, "that we have never been 
able to get anything like that at home ? When I 
think of the Irish nurses who are kind and faith- 
ful, no doubt, but quite untruthful, and speak 
with an Irish-American accent which is making 
the English language, as spoken in America, the 
most unmusical tongue in the world, and then see 
how these English children are taught, almost 
from the cradle, to speak clearly, softly, and mu- 
sically, I am ashamed of the way in which we 
have wasted our heritage. Why is it we cannot 
find women like our trained nurses who would 
undertake the task of training the children to 
speak the language of Shakespeare, of which we 
hear so much and speak so little ? Why is it not 
as interesting to teach good manners to the lead- 
ers of our future society as to keep their pampered 
little bodies healthy ? Why are the girls who are 
starving on the pay of a school-teacher unwilling 
to undertake the fundamental education of the 
favored classes, not as menials, but as honored 
and respected friends, treated exactly as our 
trained nurses are? Why is it?" 

"For mercy's sake stop," cried Maud. "You 
make my head swim with your 'whys' ! If I try 
[ 45] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

to answer any of your questions you will say I 
am talking like Thomas." 

"Never mind whom you talk like, if only you 
answer them," I replied. 

"Well, I don't believe any one can answer 
them all, but one difficulty in the importation of 
the 'Nanny' is that you do not understand the 
secret spring of English life, i. e., of people of a 
certain position. Of course a nursery like this 
cannot be found in a house of people of small 
means. The head nurse is waited on by the 
second nurse, and is obeyed by the other servants. 
She does not take her meals in the servants' 
hall, but is served in the nursery. She holds the 
position of an N. C. 0. in the army. The whole 
American household would have to be changed 
to make way for the English nurse." 

"Very likely," I said, "but why should that 
not be done? Look how the rich at home ape 
the English with their silly footmen and insolent 
butlers ! Surely they could find a place for such 
a nurse as Miles, who would teach their children 
to be interested in simple things and to use their 
voices so that speaking would be like singing. 
Why, I know English children of nine years of 
age who have a vocabulary which a sophomore 
with us might envy! Only yesterday when I 
stopped Edward when he was on his way to work 
in his garden, he said: 'Excuse me, Aunt Ruth, 
[ 46 ] 



HUSBAND AND WIFE 



but my business is rather urgent ! ' ' Urgent ! ' 
Could President Eliot have said better? And 
yet he is far from being a prig. Indeed, to speak 
frankly, he is a limb ! I tell you what the Ameri- 
can home would have to do first: it would have 
to dispense with the services of the trained nurse ! 
I wouldn't admit it to an Englishwoman, but the 
trained nurse is an American institution because 
so many women 'enjoy ill health.' Think how 
many houses there are where, if the mother needs 
a holiday, say for a week or so, the trained nurse 
is installed, and the temperature of a healthy 
child is taken three times a day! Think of the 
'homes' where the trained nurse is kept by the 
year ! Is it any wonder Christian Science makes 
headway? It is the inevitable reaction from all 
this fussing about disease. I hope the day will 
come when it will be an ' unseemly ' thing to speak 
of sickness. We spread contagion with our 
tongues!" 

"Whose talking like some one now?" said 
Maud. "You sound like John." Then, when 
she had finished laughing at her own wit, she 
continued: "After all, you are talking about a 
very limited class, what papa used to call 'fluff.'" 

"That may be; still there are many people who 
could well afford to pay an English nurse what 
they are paying a trained nurse and save money 
by so doing." 

[47] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

"Yes, but it is more than a question of money 
— indeed, money has nothing to do with it. The 
truth is the 'Nanny' is the last blooming of the 
feudal system. These women have the hearts of 
the old retainers. They identify themselves with 
the families they serve, and are as proud of the 
children as if they were their own. Can you 
imagine Miles taking a place with the Rosenthals ? 
No, she is a part of this family, and the children 
no more think of parting with her than with me. 
As long as she lives she will be a part of their 
lives. The mails from all over the world bring 
letters to the 'Nannies' from men whose names 
the whole world knows. So, while you might 
import Miles, you could not graft her into a social 
democracy ! A certain noble lord was once ac- 
cused of being a 'snob.' He laughingly replied: 
' You should see my Nanny ! ' 

"Then there is another difficulty — such people 
as Alice Burns and Elsie Graham, who do not see 
their children once a week, who meet the doctor, 
for whom the trained nurse sent, as they leave 
the house to go to dinner or to the opera, and 
ask him if 'it' is contagious, but are afraid to go 
and see for themselves, might be willing to have 
such an one as Miles, if it became the fashion, but 
the typical American mother would not allow 
another woman to have such authority over her 
children as the English nurse has. It is she who 
[ 48] 



HUSBAND AND WIFE 



decides whether the children shall be dosed, 
whether they should be punished, and whether 
their conduct has been such as to justify their 
appearance at lunch, or, if so, whether they de- 
serve ' sweets ' ! Can you imagine Mrs. Sher- 
burne allowing that — or Mr. Sherburne, either?" 

I had to admit that I should not like that side 
of it. 

"Then," said Maud, "you had better give up 
all thoughts of Miles!" 

"But how do English mothers like it?" 

"They accept it as part of the universe, like 
vegetable marrow and cold rooms ! But there is 
something more that I do not suppose you can 
understand. Englishwomen do not crave the 
society of their children as American women do, 
because they have the companionship of their 
husbands to a degree unknown at home." 

"You must be crazy! There is more true 
companionship between husbands and wives in 
America than anywhere else in the world." 

"Don't get excited," said Maud. "It is not 
the Fourth of July ! I was not speaking of qual- 
ity but of quantity. The management of the 
household is not left to women, as it is at home. 
The husband and wife consult about a thousand 
things that American husbands know nothing 
about. If the husband is in politics, as Thomas is, 
the wife visits the constituency and makes speeches 
[49] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

as well as the man. At any dinner you will notice 
that the women talk politics as intelligently as 
the men do. Such intellectual companionship 
would be impossible if the woman were tied down 
to the nursery. How many really intelligent men 
does one meet at a dinner-party in Boston or New 
York? They will not accept such invitations, 
because the women are not their intellectual com- 
panions. They are beautifully gowned and lovely 
to look at, but they expect to be admired every 
minute ! Then take the institution of ' the week- 
end.' If people are not stopping here, Thomas 
and I are off to some other house. I have a quiet 
mind because Miles is here. No, a 'Nanny' is 
as necessary in an English house as is an N. C. 0. 
in the army, for the rules of the house are equally 
strict." 

Some of those rules strike us as queer. For 
instance, even when only the family is present, 
dinner is a formal affair. Instead of gathering 
in the hall as before lunch, we assemble in the 
drawing-room, and when the hour strikes, the 
butler appears and announces: "Dinner is served, 
Sir Thomas !" I confess when I first heard that, 
my eyebrows went up a trifle. Maud saw it and 
laughed. "Yes," she said, "I felt that way at 
first, and told Thomas that if the butler thought 
he could ignore me, he was mistaken!" 

"I think, my dear, what you said was that 'he 
[ 50] 



HUSBAND AND WIFE 



had another guess coming,'" said Thomas, with 
a smile. 

"I 'guess' I did," laughed Maud. "At any 
rate, now that I understand the reason, I submit, 
I hope, gracefully." 

"You could not do anything otherwise," he 
replied. 

"Well," I exclaimed, "when the billing and 
cooing are over, I too should like to know the 
reason." 

"Every country has its customs," said Sir 
Thomas, I thought a bit stolidly. "America has 
hers and England hers. The difference is that the 
English can give a reason for theirs, whereas I 
doubt if Americans always can." 

I saw he was trying to get a "rise" out of me 
and so answered: "Such as?" 

"Well, for instance, if a man goes to church in 
America, he takes the aisle seat, and if a lady 
enters he steps out and allows her to pass, instead 
of moving up as an Englishman would do. Is 
there any reason for that?" 

"Certainly," I answered. "That is a sur- 
vival of the custom of the early days when the 
men went to church carrying their flintlocks, 
which they might be called upon to use against 
the Indians at any minute, and could not wait 
for the women and children to clear the way." 

"That strikes me as an interesting explanation 
[51 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

of the origin of a custom rather than as a reason 
for its continuance. Indeed, I would suggest 
that it is a custom that might be discontinued 
with advantage, for it seems to have been carried 
from the church to the trams, and is, I suppose, 
accountable for the existence of what I have seen 
in the American papers called 'the end-seat hog.' ' 

We all laughed at this, but I said it looked to 
me like a red herring. 

But he said: "No, the English custom of hav- 
ing the host rather than the hostess notified of 
the serving of dinner is not merely a survival 
from the days when women counted for little, 
but has a practical value to-day. Inasmuch as 
the host is expected to ' take in ' the lady of lead- 
ing rank, it is of consequence that he, and not the 
hostess, who comes last, should be informed when 
the procession should start." 

I must say that seems a reasonable explanation. 
And when I think of the confusion that is apt to 
follow at home when we try to be formal — as, for 
instance, when the host is talking to the prettiest 
girl in the room up to the last minute, and his 
wife has to inform him that dinner is ready, be- 
cause his charmer has been so engrossing that he 
has not heard the butler, and he hastens to escort 
the "lady" of a congressman, I am inclined to 
think we had better follow the English way or 
[ 52] 



HUSBAND AND WIFE 



else revert to the primitive custom of "choosing 
partners" ! 

You will think I have been reading the Countess, 
or one of the other papers which teach the middle 
classes to ape the aristocracy, and are probably 
muttering: "What earthly difference does it 
make to us what are the customs of a society 
which is soon to pass away ? " But you are wrong. 
This particular thing is of no value, as you and I 
both know. The point is, we Americans are con- 
tinually saying that the English do not under- 
stand us. Do we understand them ? If we would 
take the trouble to learn the reason for some of 
our differences, would it not do more for the peace 
of the world than all those stupid banquets, with 
their talk about "our common blood," when every 
one knows that at least a third of those present 
have not a drop of English blood in their veins, 
and some of them, as Roosevelt is reported to 
have said, "thank God for it"? 

John is calling to know if I intend to type all 
night, and you will long ago have wished that I 
would stop ! Well, you will not be troubled by 
me soon again, for to-morrow we start on our trip, 
and John will want to tell you about it himself. 



53 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 



XI 

THE FOURTH SPEED 

This came near being my last letter to you. 
No, that does not look right! What I mean is 
the one before this came near being the last. 
This is what happened: When we were leaving 
the "Beeches" a few days ago, my brother-in-law, 
in looking over the car, discovered the "fourth 
speed." As he had never seen one on an English 
car, he asked me what value it had. I was not 
quite clear in my own mind as to its value, and 
tried to recall what the agent had said about it. 
Finally I remarked that I had not had occasion 
to use it as yet, but that it was a good thing to 
have, because when one was running at forty 
miles or more, it steadied the car and took the 
strain off the engine. 

"Good Lord," he exclaimed, "you don't mean 
to say you are going to drive forty miles an hour, 
do you?" 

"No, not at present, but it's a good thing to 
have if one should want it." 

" I should think it a jolly good thing to have if 
I were tired of life or of my wife !" 

This rather nettled me, but I said nothing, 
chiefly because I did not know what to say ! But 
I thought he was probably right, and that I could 
[54] 



THE FOURTH SPEED 



get all the speed I could control by running in 
-high." 

It was one of those days, cool, dry, shining, 
which are as rare in England as they are common 
at home, say in October. A day on which one 
feels it is good to be alive. I was glad of this for 
Ruth's sake, for she was sad at parting with her 
sister and the children, and I was glad for my own 
sake, because I like to feel that it is good to be 
alive! I was also glad for the motor's sake, for 
it was running "fine" ! Perhaps the reason both 
we and the motor rejoiced was because both 
human and mechanical engines function best 
when there is an uninterrupted flow of the electric 
current upon which both depend for their greatest 
efficiency. At any rate, the car seemed alive, 
and "pulled like a good 'un," as Sir Thomas's 
chauffeur remarked as we drove away. 

I know you have driven over the hills of the 
"West Hiding," and therefore remember that it 
is all "up hill and down dale." But with you the 
horse slowly mounted the hills and then held back 
on the descent. But with a motor it is different; 
the hills must be rushed so that one mounts half- 
way up the opposing rise before the impetus of the 
descent is lost. This requires constant shifting 
of gears which becomes rather tiresome, and after 
a while one begins to look for a bit of level ground 
on which the car will run without much attention 
[55] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

from the driver, or for a long straight hill, not too 
steep, down which one can coast. 

Such a hill we soon reached. But as we began 
the descent I saw that it was steeper than I had 
supposed, and so began the descent slowly. But 
the car soon gained a greater speed than I wished, 
so I threw her into second and pressed on the 
foot-brake. Still she ran too fast, and I saw that 
this was a steeper hill than I had ever met, and 
much as I disliked doing so, knowing how ruinous 
it is to the tires, I put on the emergency brake. 
But what was my horror to find that we were 
now shooting down the hill at a speed greater 
than I had ever felt since the days when I tobog- 
ganed! However, there was nothing more to be 
done, and I could only hope that we should meet 
nothing in the way. But that hope was short- 
lived, for at the moment I saw, near the foot of 
the hill, a picnic party which had backed their 
pony-cart against the hedge, leaving the pony 
standing across the road while they leisurely un- 
packed a lunch-basket and other paraphernalia 
for a feast. It was true there was room to pass 
if one drove carefully and slowly, but we were 
not going slowly! Indeed, one glance at the 
speedometer brought my heart into my throat! 
I have read of men who were cool in moments of 
danger — I must be a hero, for I was cold ! I could 
only hope that Ruth had not seen, or, if she had, 
[56] 



THE FOURTH SPEED 



had not understood. I blew the klaxon furiously ; 
saw a boy run to the pony's head. I blew again 
two sharp blasts, and, fortunately, he had sense 
enough to see he should be struck, and so jumped 
clear. The pony threw back his head with a 
snort, and we shot by without an inch to spare 
between the cart and a solid stone post opposite. 
Ruth was as white as death but uttered no sound. 
The silence was broken by the voice of the child 
who had been so near death. But what he said 
seemed inadequate. It was : " Oh, I say ! " James 
Freeman Clarke attributed the profanity of the 
kindly boatmen on the Ohio River to a lack of 
vocabulary. Perhaps that was the reason the 
boy did not swear ! 

Well, the longest lane has a turning and the 
steepest hill a bottom, so at length the car began 
to slow down as it struck the opposite rise, and 
finally came to a full stop. 

Then Ruth spoke. But, angel as she is, all she 
said was: "Don't you think, dear, that was a 
little fast?" 

I said I thought it was, and that I would go 
slower hereafter ! 

I could not imagine what had happened. The 
brakes were new, and while the chauffeur at the 
"Beeches" had warned me that they were too 
light, I thought that was because he did not un- 
derstand the difference there is in weight between 
[ 57] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

an English and an American car. As I say, I 
could not understand it. The car had behaved 
as if it were alive — like a high-spirited horse, 
"full of beans," who had taken the bit into its 
teeth and bolted. 

I descended and took a good look at every part 
of the machine. I found that the foot-brake was 
in order, but the emergency brake had not been 
touched. I have no doubt that such a student of 
the "subconscious" as yourself has already dis- 
covered the answer to the riddle. Yes, you are 
right ! It was Sir Thomas's foolishness in talking 
about the "fourth speed," as I was leaving, that 
had lodged in my subconscious mind and led me 
to pull, not the emergency brake, but the fourth- 
speed lever ! 

I asked a laborer, plodding home to his dinner, 
the name of the little hamlet at the top of the 
hill. He answered: "Sawley." 

"Why, that can hardly be," I replied. "I 
passed Sawley soon after leaving Ripon." 

"Ay," he replied, "there be two of 'em." 

"Well, one is enough for me," I answered. 

He made no reply; simply stared at me as if 
he thought I was a fool. I guess he was right ! 

The motor-car has completed the work begun 

by the bicycle of breaking down "the middle wall 

of partition" which divided Englishmen from 

strangers. The motor is a letter of introduction 

[53] 



THE FOURTH SPEED 



to every owner. At the inn where we stopped for 
lunch were a young couple who, like ourselves, 
were making a trip, and when I asked some ques- 
tion about roads they opened their maps and not 
only gave us the desired information but also a 
valuable "tip," from which I learned on authority 
what otherwise I could have learned only by ex- 
perience — that is, by loss of time and labor. 

My new friend, for such I must call him, was 
much interested on learning we had come so far, 
and expressed a wish to see an American car. 
He was greatly impressed by the "self-starter," 
but insisted — as did every other Englishman who 
spoke to me on the subject — that the car was too 
light to stand up as an English car does. He also 
said that he had been told that the American 
brakes were not to be depended upon. 

This led to a confession of my folly of the morn- 
ing. I should have thought twice before telling 
it to a fellow countryman, for he would have 
thought it a high joke, and have "rubbed it in." 
But this serious young man was filled with horror 
at our narrow escape from death, and was alto- 
gether sympathetic. This led him to give me 
the "tip" of which I have spoken. It was very 
simple: "In descending a hill," said he, "judge 
its angle of descent and adjust your gear accord- 
ingly, then switch off the current, let in the clutch, 
and the engine will act as a brake. You will 
[59] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

always have the brakes in reserve, but seldom use 
them. I have been over the highest passes of the 
Alps, with the exception of the Stelvio, without 
touching the brake." 

"All's well that ends well," but I wish I might 
have known this simple rule earlier in the day ! 



XII 

"JAEL THE WIFE OF HEBER THE KENITE" 

John has not written lately because the car has 
been running well ! He says you care only for 
"thrillers," and that there have been none since 
he last wrote. "Laus Deo!" add I. So to-day, 
which is a Sunday, I am writing in his place. 

I am sorry to say I am not at all pleased with 
him! You know how unconventional and out- 
spoken he is; well, I have had to tell him more 
than once that while his way of talking is well 
enough at home, where people know and love him, 
and where, even if they do not know him, they 
are more or less like him, and so understand that 
what he says is not to be taken au pied de la lettre, 
here people are different — their yea is yea, and 
their nay nay. The English are not only matter 
of fact, but have an awful reverence for truth, 
and do not understand what John means when 
[60] 



"JAEL THE WIFE OF HEBER THE KENITE" 

he says that "Lying can be the highest form of 
truth"! So when a man says a thing they not 
unnaturally think he means it- 
Well, all this introduction leads to the events 
of the day. This morning we went to the cathe- 
dral. I must say it was a shock to find that 
there were less than a hundred people in the 
choir — where the service was held. However, all 
went well enough until the sermon: the preacher 
announced — no, sung — his text, "Blessed among 
women shall Jael the wife of Heber the Kenite 
be. Blessed shall she be among women in the 
tent," and then proceeded: "We will think of 
Jael, my dear brethren, not merely as the wife of 
Heber the Kenite, but rather as a type of the 
Blessed Virgin." What followed I shall never 
know, for at this moment John picked up his hat 
and umbrella and left, and I, fearing he might 
be faint, quickly followed. When we got outside, 
I said, "Are you sick, dear?" and he replied: 
"Not yet, but I should have been had I waited 
a moment longer." 

"Was the air close?" I innocently asked. 
"No, it was as damp and drafty as usual, but 
I could not have stood that creature another 
minute." 

Then followed a diatribe on the Established 
Church, which I will spare you. Before he had 
finished, there was not one stone left upon another 
[61 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

of the cathedral system! "Such an array of 
clergy, such a choir, such an organ, such every- 
thing to make the service glorious, and yet fewer 
people than could be found in a mission chapel — 
the extravagance of it, the futility of it — why, 
half the people there were American tourists! 
Why don't they take the money and use it for 
some good purpose?" 

'"This ointment might have been sold for 
much,'" I quoted. 

"No, you don't," he growled. "Was the 
1 whole house filled with the odor of the ointment ' ? 
Is England? Is this town? Was the great 
cathedral? Was the choir even? There was no 
odor of ointment. There was nothing but a 
stench /" 

"John!" I protested. 

"Well, perhaps that was too strong. But, hon- 
estly, was there any feeling of the majesty of 
God there ? I say nothing of his love — any pity 
for poor struggling souls ? 'A type of the Blessed 
Virgin,' forsooth ! If he must talk of Jael, why 
did he not tell the truth and remind the people 
that if she were living to-day she would be in 
jail — no, that is not a pun — waiting for the report 
of the grand jury ? Is it not due to Mary's Son 
that she can no longer be counted ' blessed ' ? It 
is not the blasphemy, it is the unreality of the 
whole performance which is so dreadful. The 
[62] 



"JAEL THE WIFE OF HEBER THE KENITE" 

preacher no doubt is a decent, law-abiding Eng- 
lishman, who would be horrified if he read such 
a story in the Times, but because it is embedded 
in the Bible he considers it his duty to find a 
mystic meaning in it. This sort of talk is what 
leads to moral confusion, and is one of the reasons 
why the church is losing its hold on thoughtful 
people. The day was when the 'world' was full 
of darkness and the church full of light, but now 
the 'world' has a clearer moral vision than the 
church — or, at any rate, than that preposterous 
creature has." 

By this time, as you may believe, there was not 
much of the "joy of the sanctuary" left in me! 
We walked down to the river, and after a long 
silence John began to recite: 

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home, 
And call the cattle home, 
And call the cattle home, 
Across the sands o' Dee." 

The tears came to my eyes, and John said, 
now quietly and reverently: "He was a man" — 
meaning Kingsley — "and there must be some like 
him. But, not ' in king's houses ' ! Why did not 
the preacher call that Mary a type of the Virgin ? 
Why didn't he recite the 'Sands o' Dee'? Is it 
not as truly inspired as Judges?" 

By this time my ill humor had passed, and I 
[63 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

said: "Perhaps because he could not recite it as 
well as you." 

John laughed, and then said, "I'm sorry. Let 
us try and forget him," meaning, I suppose, the 
preacher, who probably was at that moment eat- 
ing his Sunday roast and listening to his wife's 
praises of the sermon ! 

In the afternoon I announced that I thought of 
going to even-song, and to my dismay John said 
he would go with me ! I thought it was running 
into temptation, and intimated as much, but he 
said he was going to do penance. Well, it proved 
to be a lovely penance! The sermon was so 
beautiful and simple, on the words "I know where 
thou dwellest." It was about home — where we 
dwell. "Is it such," said the preacher, "as we 
should wish Our Lord to visit?" He was an old 
man, and the sermon was like the talk of a father 
to his children. It radiated love. Then came 
the anthem, "Love Divine," and as the voice of 
the tenor was lifted up the boy's soprano followed, 
rising still higher, till in one final "Love Divine" 
the great arches of the roof re-echoed with the 
melody. I confess that I wept, and John said 
softly: "How perfect it all was! I understand 
now why the townspeople — the nave was filled — 
come to such a service." 

So we wended our way back to the hotel, feel- 
ing that the day had not been altogether lost. 
[ 64] 



"AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING" 

XIII 

"AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING" 

I said that the day was not altogether lost, 
but, alas! it was not yet over. We were sitting 
in the garden after the cold supper always served 
in lieu of dinner on Sunday evenings. John was 
smoking his pipe and all was peaceful when a 
man sitting near us suddenly turned to John and 
said: "I saw you in the cathedral this morning, 
but as you left hurriedly I feared you might be 
ill. I hope not." 

Why can't John be good all the time? Or, if 
that is not possible, why can't he tell a He? 
Surely the latter would have been better than to 
blurt out: "No, thank you. I was quite well, 
but when I found the talk was to be about Jael, 
I thought it best to take my wife out. I don't 
think Jael is a proper person to be spoken about 
in the presence of decent people." 

"God bless me!" exclaimed the other, "how 
extraordinary!" 

Fortunately, at that moment the man in charge 
of the garage appeared with the information that 
he had succeeded in getting the distilled water 
needed for the batteries, as the chemist's shop 
was now open, and John departed with him to 
see to dropping it in. 

[ 65] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

There was a long silence, and then the stranger 
said: "Are you an American?" 

When I told him, he said: "Really, I should 
never have suspected it!" 

How thankful I was that the chemist had opened 
his shop just when he did, for that "compliment" 
— for such of course it was intended to be — affects 
John as "sheeny" does an Irishman. 

"Of course," continued my neighbor, "I saw 
at once that your husband was an American. 
But how does it happen that you speak without 
an accent?" 

I laughed and said: "Probably because I had 
lived until my marriage in Boston, and am of 
pure English stock, whereas my husband is of 
mixed race, possibly having no English blood at 
all in him." 

"Dear me! You don't mean to say Indian or 
negro, do you?" 

Thank goodness that distilled water has to be 
put in drop by drop, or John would have been in 
the place he said the wife of Heber should be in ! 
I explained that my husband's ancestors on one 
side had come from Ulster, and on the other 
from Wales, so that he did not have quite the 
same feeling about England that I have, whose 
people came from Norfolk and Devon. 

He remarked it was a pity — I suppose for John, 
not for me — but I did not inquire. It is, however, 
[66] 



"AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING" 

a funny thing that while the English speak of 
curiosity as an American characteristic, they 
never seem to think there is any reason they 
should not ask us any questions which come into 
their heads. John, to whom, I need not say, I 
am indebted for this observation, says that it is 
because they look on us as freaks ! And that just 
as children at the circus will pinch the legs of 
those unfortunate creatures called freaks — a thing 
they would never dream of doing to "humans" — 
so the English take liberties with us which they 
would never take with their own countrymen. 
But you know how he talks ! 

My new acquaintance was evidently not yet 
satisfied, for he continued: "You know that was 
rather an original remark of your husband's about 
the sermon this morning." 

I replied that he was rather an original per- 
son. 

"But," he said, "if you once begin that sort of 
thing, where will it end?" 

"What sort of thing?" I asked. 

"Why, talking about those people in the Bible 
as if they were real people living to-day, don't 
you know." 

"Don't you think of them as real?" 

"I don't think of them at all." 

"But when they are spoken of in a sermon, 
what do you think?" 

[67] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

"Why, to tell you the truth, I am apt to take 
a little snooze. I have done my part in the ser- 
vice, made the responses and that sort of thing, 
you know, and when it comes to the sermon, 
that's parson's job. He has to do something, 
and I take it for granted he knows his business 
and pay no attention to him. But if I once 
started in to consider whether he was right or 
wrong, where should I end? I know jolly well 
that Sunday would be no day of rest ! Look at 
your husband, now — he is all worked up over the 
sermon this morning, but it did me no harm. To 
tell you the truth, I don't think I ever met a 
man before who cared w^hat a parson says. Well, 
perhaps I don't quite mean that, but what sur- 
prised me was that he talked as if he had been 
listening to a speech by Lloyd George or Asquith, 
or one of those men, on a subject that really 
matters." 

"But you think the clergy ought to talk on 
things that really matter?" 

"In a way, yes. But not as a regular thing. 
That is the mistake the Non-conformists make. 
I have a son-in-law who goes to chapel, and at 
Sunday dinner the family talk over the sermon 
as if they had been to a political meeting. I 
don't call that making Sunday a day of rest. 
Why should I want to have a parson tell me what 
to think or what to do? What does he know 
[68] 



"AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING" 

about the life of men? I expect I know what I 
ought to do as well as he does." 
"Why then have a sermon at all?" 
"Well, it's the custom, and I believe in keeping 
up the old customs. And, besides, the parson 
ought to have something to do. Of course in a 
large town where there are working people, with 
a lot of drunkenness and fighting and that sort of 
thing, the parsons are pretty busy. As I said to 
my son-in-law a fortnight ago, when he was say- 
ing the Established Church ought to go, the 
money ought to be taken for other purposes, and 
all that sort of thing which the radicals are always 
saying, well, I said to him, 'You don't look deep 
enough. Think what the church saves the coun- 
try every year in police alone! The Established 
Church is the bulwark of society,' I said, ' and if 
you break that down, what will take its place? 
The people who need it least will build churches 
for themselves, and those who need it most will 
have none. And, let me tell you, when that day 
comes, you will soon learn whether you are pay- 
ing less or more to maintain order. And that is 
not all,' I said, for by this time I was pretty hot, 
'the Established Church keeps alive the spirit of 
the empire. But in your chapels your ministers 
talk as if there were other countries as good as 
England. They are a lot of radicals and have no 
respect for land, yet it is on the land England 
[69] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

depends, and the church knows that and never 
offends the landlord.' He didn't like this over- 
much, and I doubt if I go there soon again. No, 
I am all for the church; what I say is: 'As it was 
in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world 
without end, Amen ! ' " 

And with that confession of faith he knocked 
the ashes out of his pipe and stumped off to bed. 

How will it all end? Will the church set its 
face against the rising tide of democracy and 
make Canute its patron saint? I don't dare 
ask John. I wish you were here that we might 
talk things over ! You would be so sympathetic, 
for you love England dearly, which I fear John 
does not, and therefore, I feel, cannot understand 
her. Well, I comfort myself by thinking what I 
believe you would say: "England has the 'root 
of the matter' in her, and if a great crisis were to 
arise, Englishmen will show that they are to-day 
what they have always been, and the church will 
follow the higher call. England will never do 
penance and sit in a sheet, in the face of the na- 
tions confessing the 'sins and offenses of her 
youth,' but she will set her house in order and 
meet the new age with courage and faith and hope, 
as she has ever done, and the 'glory of the latter 
house will be greater than that of the former' ! 
*As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall 
be,' embodies a great truth which your muddle- 
[70] 



RURAL ENGLAND 



headed friend was trying to express. He thought, 
and alas ! he is not alone in so thinking, that the 
form makes the stability, whereas it is the eternal 
stability of the English character in which he be- 
lieves, and so do I." 

So with these comforting thoughts I am going 
to bed. My Tory friend was right in one respect 
— it has not been a restful day ! 



XIV 

RURAL ENGLAND 

On leaving "Barchester" we took the road to 
Gloucester. I think it safe to say that it is the 
finest road for motoring in England, which is 
equivalent to saying in the world. The French 
roads, I am told, are in some ways superior, but 
so straight and hard and white that travelling on 
them soon becomes monotonous. Then they are 
so artificial, running like the road the Tsar is said 
to have laid out with a ruler, between Petersburg 
and Moscow! But the English roads run nat- 
urally, with many a turn from town to town, just 
as man first found it easy to walk. Of course we 
now have roads at home equal to any — for the 
first year or two — but think how many generations 
have used these roads, and always, I imagine, 
[71 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

kept them in repair. The difference is like that 
between a granite bridge and one of our new 
concrete ones. At first there seems nothing to 
choose between them; but when the rain and 
frost of a few seasons have done their work, the 
one has begun to look dingy and shabby, while 
the other has gained in dignity. 

Of course it is not only the surface of the road 
which makes motoring on it so delightful; it is 
the continuous succession of lovely rural scenes. 
For example, we had not gone many miles when 
we met a horseman — an ancient groom we sup- 
posed — riding along the grass by the roadside and 
followed by a pack of hounds, which he was "walk- 
ing." Ruth jumped from the car and begged 
to be allowed to take a kodak of them. He 
smilingly called them together, the older ones 
looking up into his face and the pups still nosing 
about the grass. The light was good and the 
promise of a satisfactory picture excellent. 

The "groom" asked if he might have a picture 
when the film had been developed, which Ruth 
said she would be delighted to send if he would 
give her his address. 

"Just address it, ma'am, to 'James the Hunts- 
man, The Kennels, Blankshire." 

"But your last name?" she asked. 

"That is my name, ma'am, James the Hunts- 
man." 

[72] 



RURAL ENGLAND 



So we learned that not only was he not a groom 
but that we were not in the twentieth century but 
still in feudal England, where a man's occupation 
was his designation — the individual not having 
yet emerged ! That his status should be fixed for 
life was evidently as satisfactory to "James the 
Huntsman" as, it is to be presumed, was his 
master's, whether knight or baronet, to him. 

"It is like a scene from 'Ivanhoe,'" said Ruth, 
when we were again under way. "If we were a 
little farther to the east, in Northamptonshire, 
where Sherwood Forest lies, I have no doubt we 
should meet Gurth the serf, or Robin Hood !" 

"No," said I, "the serfs are working in factories, 
and Robin Hood is in the 'city.'" 

"You talk like William Jennings Bryan," 
mocked Ruth. 

A few miles farther on we came to another 
England. Again we met a horseman. I said 
this time a "groom," but Ruth said she was sure 
he would call himself "chevalier." 

Whoever he was he looked noble enough to be 
a duke. He was riding a seal-brown horse whose 
coat shone like a chestnut in the sunlight. I no- 
ticed that the horse was restive, and so shut off 
the engine till he should pass. The rider thanked 
me, touching his cap — so I suppose he could not 
have been a duke — and remarked that the horse 
was "full of beans." 

[73] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

I said it was a superb animal, and the groom, 
leaning forward to pat his neck, for the horse 
was still nervous, replied: "He ought to be, sir, 
for he's own brother to" — I am sorry to say I 
have forgotten the name — "winner of the Derby." 
So we had met the aristocracy, after all ! 

Not long after this we met a flock of sheep. 
Again we stopped. But we got no thanks from 
the surly shepherd — Ruth said because he was so 
tired — but the panting dog, who ran from side 
to side on the road, gave us a grateful glance, as 
much as to say: " I am glad you did that, for had 
you kept on, these fools would have been all over 
the road, and I should have been beaten." 

But it was not only the passengers on the 
"king's highway" who kept us entertained — not 
to say entranced — but houses and gardens on 
either side made it hard to keep the tenth com- 
mandment 1 

When I said this to Ruth, she replied that it 
could hardly be my neighbor's wife whom I cov- 
eted, which was true, if cattish, for the ones we 
saw were more worthy than alluring! The ox 
and the ass were not in evidence, but I suspect 
Ruth coveted the man servant, and specially the 
maid servant, of whom we caught glimpses from 
time to time, flitting across the well-trimmed 
lawns or standing at the servants' entrance, gos- 
siping with the butcher or the baker or the candle- 
[74] 



RURAL ENGLAND 



stick-maker — what difference can it make to a 
young woman who is forbidden to have "follow- 
ers"? 

It was the houses which tempted me. There 
was an infinite variety to choose from — Eliza- 
bethan, Tudor, Jacobean (I am not sure I am 
always right about the period) — but I recognized 
the real Queen Anne. Here was a "gentleman's 
residence" and there a tiny cottage covered with 
climbing roses. I noted scores of Elizabethan 
houses with chimneys as graceful as the smoke 
which curled from them. Why cannot a modern 
architect design a chimney which will draw the 
eye as well as the smoke ? And the gardens ! 
Those of the poor as well as of the rich were a 
riot of color. There were dogs and ponies and 
"governess-carts," and all the things we are 
familiar with in the illustrated papers. As I 
looked at all these delectable things, it seemed to 
me that England was an earthly paradise; as old 
Gaunt says, "A second Eden." I grew melan- 
choly as I remembered the "L" and the crowded 
subway, and the noise and the dirt of our chief 
city, the struggle for existence and the prevailing 
discontent — every man striving to surpass his 
neighbor — no one content with that station in 
life to which "it had pleased God to call him." 
How many Americans, I said to myself, believe 
God has called them to anything? Here, I con- 
[ 75] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

tinued, is peace and contentment. Would God 
that I were there! 

Now Ruth has an uncanny way of knowing of 
what one is thinking, so I was not startled when 
she broke into my revery by saying: 

"Yes, it is all beautiful, but how long could 
you stand it ? I do not mean what you now see, 
but what you do not see! How many people 
have taken off their caps to us this morning 
simply because they believe us to belong to the 
4 gentry ' ? In that last village through which we 
passed, did the children 'bob' to us because they 
recognized our superiority in character or educa- 
tion ? You would not have been the vicar of that 
lovely Norman church we passed five miles back 
one month before there would have been trouble ! 
The 'servility' of the 'lower classes' would so 
have gotten on your nerves that you would have 
insulted some laborer for the satisfaction of hav- 
ing him answer you like a man I You would find 
another thing, which is that 'kowtowing' is not 
confined to one class. If the laborer 'kowtows' to 
the vicar, the vicar must 'kowtow' to the lord of 
the manor." 

"Why, Ruth," I cried, "where is Rryan now? 
You talk like the ladies on the soap-boxes in 
Union Square!" 

"You forget," she said, "that I am not talking 
[76] 



RURAL ENGLAND 



about myself. I should adore to have the school 
children 'bob' to me, and would be quite willing 
in turn to 'bob' to the Lady Emeline or to the 
Dowager Countess. But you! Really, John, I 
sometimes think you know yourself less than any 
one I ever met!" 

"It's lucky I have you to show me what I am 
like," I growled. 

"Indeed it is," she cheerfully replied. "I'll 
tell you whom you are like: you are exactly like 
Crugan!" 

To show you how absurd the comparison is, I 
must tell you something about Tom Crugan. He 
lived in our ward before he made his fortune, and 
was a good fellow — is still, so far as I know ! More 
than once he had helped me when some poor 
wretch had got into trouble and needed a little 
"influence." When he got the contract for a 
section of the subway, he made a lot of money — 
I hope honestly ! Then he made a lucky invest- 
ment in real estate, which, curiously enough, the 
city found it must have — at an advance in price 
— and then Tom and his family made the grand 
tour. Mrs. Crugan kept herself in the back- 
ground, but the girls, who were real Irish beauties, 
had a succes fou. One of them married an Italian 
prince, and the other a German count. Well, 
Tom stayed abroad about two years and then 
[77 1 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

suddenly returned. He came down to our part 
of the town soon after, to look after some prop- 
erty he held there, and I saw him. 

"Hello, Crugan," I said. "I am glad to see 
you back. Did you like Europe?" 

"I did for a while," he replied, "but the best 
day of the trip was when I set foot in Hoboken. 
The carriage was there to meet us, and when I 
had put my wife in, she says to me: 'Ain't you 
comin' too, Tom?' 

'"Not in a carriage, I ain't,' says I. 'And what 
is more, if that coachman touches his hat to me 
again, I'm liable to do him an injury! You go 
on up, mother, and I'll be there most as soon as 
you, anyway.' 

"So I got onto a Christopher Street ferry, and 
caught a crosstown and swung onto a Fourth 
Avenue and went out onto the front platform to 
smoke a cigar and watch the driver handle his 
team. Pretty soon a mail-wagon got across the 
tracks, and he had to pull up pretty sharp, and 
the handle of his brake caught me in the stomach. 
Did he throw a fit because he had hit a man who 
was smoking a twenty -five-cent cigar? He did 
not. He turns to me and says: 'Why the hell 
can't you keep your belly out of my brake?' 
Say, I could have kissed that man!" 



[ 78 



EDUCATION 



XV 

EDUCATION 

One day at Gloucester and one at Wells enabled 
us to get only hasty impressions of each. The 
west front of the latter was not so impressive as 
the pictures of it had led me to expect. Indeed, 
it looks like a sort of afterthought, and might as 
well have been put a hundred feet farther away 
for all the connection it has with the cathedral. 
However, when I am made an English bishop, 
it is Wells I shall choose for the bishop's gar- 
den! 

But Gloucester, like Rome, would require a life- 
time to exhaust. The whole history of western 
ecclesiastical architecture is built into its walls. 
Like the English constitution, it is neither an 
evolution nor a revolution. It is a series of new 
things put onto the old. Perhaps for that reason 
it is so impressive. It is not logical, but it works ! 
The rough Saxon stonework was not torn down 
when the more stately Norman was added but left 
standing to bear witness to the past. And so the 
various styles of Gothic, from the early pointed 
to the highly decorative, have in turn been added, 
and the result is a structure in some ways the 
most impressive in England and perfectly rep- 
[79 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

resentative of the English people. I thought of 
"The Chambered Nautilus": 

"Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 
As the swift seasons roll: 
Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast — 
Till thou at length art free, 
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea." 

From Wells we returned to Bath, crossing the 
Mendips, or are they the Cotswolds? On the 
steep ascent we passed two bicyclists, a parson 
and a very pretty girl, evidently his daughter. I 
wished we had two vacant seats to offer them, for 
it is a stiff climb. We did offer the one we had 
to the pretty girl, but though she looked tired, she 
was a good sport, and declined to leave her father 
to toil up the hill alone. I hope he was grateful, 
but Englishmen have a way of accepting sacrifices 
from their womenfolk which we do not under- 
stand. At any rate, it was pleasant to see the 
companionship between the two. 

We spent the night at Bath in a pretentious and 
uncomfortable hotel, and moralized on Beau 
Brummel and his preposterous patron. I can 
never forgive Sir Walter Scott for his laudation 
of the Prince Regent, but, on the other hand, 
Thackeray's picture is as relentless as a portrait 
by Sargent. 

[80] 



EDUCATION 



From Bath we passed over to Winchester, 
taking in a corner of the New Forest en route. 

After we had seen the great cathedral and col- 
lege at Winchester, we walked to St. Cross, which 
is a home for old men. I have forgotten how old 
it is, but the custom of receiving pilgrims remains 
unchanged through all the many years. Each 
"pilgrim" is given a piece of bread and a mug of 
ale at the porter's lodge. We pilgrims were not 
hungry enough to enjoy either. 

I had a letter to the head master, who, unfor- 
tunately, was away, but one of the house masters 
received us kindly and showed us about. 

Of course the talk turned on education and the 
relative merits of English and American schools. 
Our guide had never been in America, but if you 
think that prevented him from having definite 
views on American methods of education, you do 
not know the English ! He was inclined to admit 
that what he called our "board schools" were, 
perhaps, in some respects better than the English, 
but when it came to the question of "public" 
schools — such as the Phillips Academies at Exeter 
and Andover, or St. Paul's or Groton, he found 
it difficult to speak what he believed to be the 
truth and at the same time be polite. So he con- 
tented himself with saying that the English 
standard is much higher; which, I fear, cannot be 
denied. I asked him what boys of fifteen were 
[81 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

reading in Latin, and when he replied, "Caesar 
and the first books of Virgil," I said it would be 
the same with us. But when he explained that 
by "reading" he did not mean merely trans- 
lation into English, but also retranslation into 
Latin in the style of the author, and added that 
boys must be able to write good Latin prose of 
their own composition, I gave up ! 

I asked him how he accounted for the fact that 
the standard was higher with them than with 
us. He said because English boys studied harder 
and longer hours than our boys do. He thought 
the three months' holiday fatal to continuous 
progress. "Then," he added, "your boys go to 
school too late. English boys are sent to a pre- 
paratory school at nine — often at eight — years of 
age, so they acauire habits of study before yours 
begin." 

Much of this is no doubt true, but there are 
some things he does not know and which, mirabile 
dictu, I did not tell him! Do you ask "why"? 
Well, to tell you the truth, I did begin, but soon 
found he was one of those Englishmen who, having 
made up his mind, does not care to listen to new 
evidence. Moreover, the schoolmaster the world 
over is in the habit of teaching and does not care 
to be taught — certainly not by one not of the 
guild. No doubt you will say to yourself that 
this is not a peculiarity of the schoolmaster but 
[82] 



EDUCATION 



is true of the clergy as well. However, in this 
case there were some things not taken into ac- 
count. For instance, the holidays may be too 
long, but in our climate the boy who was kept at 
work till the 1st of August would not learn 
much more than he does now. Moreover, I ques- 
tion if the American boy, with his nervous tem- 
perament, is capable of the long hours of applica- 
tion which the more stolid English lad bears with 
ease. Whether it is an advantage, from the 
standpoint of scholarship, for a boy who has just 
emerged from infancy to be sent from home, I 
do not know. But the reason it can be done in 
England and could not be done in America — 
except in the case of those poor little unfortunates 
whose mothers and fathers have been divorced — 
is that in England the decision lies with the 
father, whereas with us it is the mother who has 
the final word. That it is desirable to send a 
child from home before there has been time to 
instil lasting principles, I fancy few American 
mothers would admit. Will English mothers 
when they have gained the independence of their 
transatlantic sisters continue the custom? Who 
can say ? 

I admit that all this sounds like what the 

lawyers call "confession and avoidance," but I 

believe there is a reason for the higher standard 

in England which perhaps our guide did not 

[83 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

know, or was too polite to mention, but which, 
were it recognized, would lift our standard with- 
out resorting to the remedies he suggested. I 
suspect the real difficulty is that we have no such 
large body of well-trained university men to draw 
upon for teachers as England has. We find it 
difficult with so many attractive and lucrative 
careers open to young men to find many who are 
willing to make teaching a life-work, and therefore 
must do the best we can with the material we 
have. In other words, before we change our 
system would it not be well for us to make the 
profession of teaching as attractive with us as it 
is in England? What college president with us 
has such a position of influence, such a house and 
salary, as has the head master of Winchester, 
Eton, or Harrow? 

You will be inclined to say as Prof. Corson did 
when I asked him, when I was a freshman, what 
subject he would suggest for a "composition." 
"Any except 'Education'!" 



[84] 



A BY-ELECTION 



XVI 

A BY-ELECTION 

From Winchester we motored to Salisbury. 
The spire of the cathedral is perhaps the most 
beautiful in the world, but the cathedral as a 
whole did not impress me as much as I had ex- 
pected. Perhaps I was still under the influence 
of Gloucester, or more likely of the regal shrine 
at Winchester. At any rate, when I learned that 
it had been built by one man, I lost interest. I 
am too familiar with that sort of work ! The 
charm of most of the English cathedrals is due to 
the fact that of most of them it is true that 

"Like some tall palm 
The stately fabric grew." 

Salisbury did not grow; it was built! It has 
an air of artificiality about it that not even the 
beautiful spire, which is a later addition, can 
atone for. 

It is fair to say that Ruth did not agree with 
me. To her it seemed one of the most beautiful 
of all we had seen. Indeed, she said the reason 
I did not appreciate it was because I was influ- 
enced by "Martin Chuzzlewit"! That was be- 
cause I had asked her from which angle she sup- 
r 85 1 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

posed Mr. Pecksniff had first drawn it. At any 
rate, we had to agree to differ. 

As we got into the car at the gate of the close 
a gentleman who had been looking it over asked 
whither we were bound. When I told him across 
the Plain, he strongly advised me to avoid the 
highway, which, he said, was quite uninteresting, 
and to take a road which, by many a turning, 
would show the Plain as the highway could not 
do. I do not know that man's name, and I do 
not wish to meet him again ! He probably is one 
of those men who take pleasure in walking — a 
form of exercise which I detest ! He certainly has 
never driven a car. Had he done so he would 
know that there is nothing so distressing to a 
motorist as a "picturesque" road ! We descended 
into little gullies and mounted little hillocks till 
my back was nearly broken with changing gears, 
and the car looked as if I had bought it second- 
hand and used it hard ! 

We stopped long enough at Stonehenge to get 
an impression of its dreariness, and then pushed 
on to a village on the north side of the Plain. We 
reached there late for lunch, and learned that the 
name of the place was Divises, and that a by- 
election for member of parliament was in prog- 
ress. 

The inn was crowded to suffocation, and some 
of the loungers had had as much to drink as was 
[86] 



A BY-ELECTION 



good for them, and some a little more. I was in 
no amiable frame of mind, as you may imagine. 
No one would pay any attention to us — they were 
too busy serving drink. 

I learned that the question at issue was what 
we call the "saloon." A Labor member was 
standing on a platform which called for the 
regulation of the public house, while the Con- 
servative candidate was for "free rum." One 
would have thought that here was an issue which 
would divide the sheep from the goats. But there 
were other questions involved — land, for instance, 
and the Established Church. 

Alas! I soon found that the shepherd had 
taken the side of the goats ! While I waited in 
vain for something to eat I heard a great shout, 
and going to the door saw the parson, driven by 
his little girl — her fair hair blowing in the wind — 
the pony decked out with blue ribbons and the 
whip, carried at a knowing angle, adorned with a 
bow of the same color. I am glad to say the child 
was left outside, but the burly parson, looking 
more like a farmer than Herbert's "Priest of the 
Temple" — as probably he was — elbowed his way 
through the crowd and called for a drink; then, 
amid the shout of the half-drunken crowd, gave 
"The King and the Church." 

Ruth, who had been pale enough before, now 
flushed so red that I was afraid she would "start 
[87] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

something," and nudged her to keep quiet. Then 
I thought she was going to burst into tears. At 
that moment a charming young fellow came into 
the room and said to her: "I beg your pardon, 
but this is no place for you. My mother has a 
sitting-room, and I am sure would be glad if you 
would join her." 

She hesitated a moment, but I said: "I am 
deeply obliged to you, and if you could get my 
wife out of this I should be very grateful." 

So she followed him, and when later I joined 
them I found that the lady of the private room 
had given her a cup of tea and made her as com- 
fortable as was possible in such a place. 

When she learned we were Americans she said 
she was mortified that we should have seen such 
a sight — she too had seen, from her window, the 
parson's entrance. "I suppose, however," she 
continued, "such things are seen in every country 
at election time." 

I said we had "toughs" who made trouble, but 
that any minister who behaved as the vicar or 
rector of this parish had done would be "ridden on 
a rail." I don't think she "got" that. I added 
that I thought that our laws which forbid the 
sale of liquor while the polls are open acted as a 
preventive of trouble. 

"Ah," she said, "that is what Mr. Bowles"— 
the Labor member — "is trying to have enacted. 
[ 88] 



SHEEP-DOGS 



But, you see, the vested interests are strong, and 
then he is so radical!" 

You may be sure we did not tarry long in that 
place, but took our way back to Bath, where we 
had planned to spend another night. 

Whether the sheep or the goats won the elec- 
tion I am unable to tell you. I am rather in- 
clined to think it was the goats. The church and 
the public house make a strong alliance ! 



XVII 

SHEEP-DOGS 

Every one told us that we made a mistake in 
beginning our trip through the valley of the Wye 
at Ross. I think they were right. It is like 
doing the Hudson from Albany to New York, 
instead of taking the Palisades first, then West 
Point, and the Catskills last. However, it was 
more convenient to work north than to go up to 
Hereford, then down the valley, and again come 
back to our starting-place. At any rate, we did 
begin at Ross ! 

Of course our first excursion was to Tintern 

Abbey. What a gem it must have been in its 

glory ! And I am thankful there has been no 

attempt to restore it. At the same time I think 

[89] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

it a pity that the grounds should be so neglected. 
It is like neglecting the grave of one we love. So 
it was with a sad heart that we turned away and 
drove to a spot, "a few miles above Tintern 
Abbey," where more than a hundred years ago 
the immortal poem was written. I read it aloud, 
and we tried to breathe the atmosphere and feel 
"Beside these steep and lofty cliffs" what Words- 
worth felt as he "heard these waters, rolhng from 
their mountain springs with a sweet inland mur- 
mur." It is indeed a "wild and secluded scene 
impressing thoughts of more deep seclusion." 

But these poetic thoughts were not destined to 
last long, for, Ruth remarking that it was getting 
damp, we started up the engine and drove along 
the road on the edge of the cliff, looking for a 
place for tea. 

This we soon found, but as there was no ga- 
rage, I drew up on the grass opposite the inn, where 
I thought the car would be out of the way and 
quite safe. A farmer, coming from the opposite 
direction, had evidently had a like thought, and 
had left his cart on the same side of the road. 
The horse had been taken out and the shafts 
tilted up at an angle which brought the ends of 
them directly opposite the radiator of the car. I 
put on the brake and out we got. I was sur- 
prised to see the motor move forward a few inches. 
The long grass had deceived me, for the ground, 
[90] 



SHEEP-DOGS 



instead of being level, as I had supposed, sloped 
gently, and the brake had not been pulled back 
far enough to hold it in place. Those few inches 
did the business. The sharp, iron-shod end of 
one of the shafts pricked the radiator as neatly 
as a lancet opens an abscess, and the water gushed 
out! 

This was indeed an accident. We were miles 
from a garage and I had not the least idea what 
to do. An old farmer, standing by, summed up 
the situation in a word when, turning to Ruth, 
he said: " It's like 'avin' your horse took with the 
gripes!" Fortunately, at that moment a kindly 
disposed cyclist came along, and with, I suppose, 
the same complacent satisfaction that the owner 
of a Ford car has in dragging a Pierce Arrow out 
of a ditch, unpacked his repair kit and plugged 
the radiator with some preparation for mending 
tires. 

We were duly grateful, for it enabled us to go 
on our way, though we leaked like a watering- 
cart, and I should not like to say how many 
times the radiator was filled ! 

At last we came to a garage where I thought we 
should find relief. I do not remember what kind 
of a radiator ours is, but you may be sure the 
proprietor pointed out that it was the wrong kind, 
being almost impossible to mend, whereas if we 
had the kind which he had in stock it would have 
[91] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

been a simple matter ! I suppose every trade has 
certain stock phrases, such as the doctor's "Had I 
been called earlier." However, there was nothing 
to be done but to leave the car with the man who 
said he would do what he could. 

We returned to the hotel on foot and not at all 
in a Wordsworthian frame of mind. The worst 
of it was that I had no one to blame but myself ! 
I got what comfort I could out of the reflection 
that the insurance company would have to pay. 
But, as the Irishman said, the worst of that is 
"you've got to lose to gain!" 

The next day while we were waiting for the 
report from the garage the porter took pity on 
us and suggested that we might like to see a trial 
of sheep-dogs, which was to take place at a farm 
near by. It did not sound exciting, but faute de 
mieux we decided to go. 

Why does not some one revise the bromidic 
formula, and instead of saying "How small the 
world is !" say "How small we are !" For indeed 
our lives are very restricted. How little we know 
of the interests of others ! The trial of the sheep- 
dogs brought this home to me. 

Gentlemen and farmers had driven in from 
miles around to see this match, which, I was 
told, is an annual event. I am not sure I can 
describe the scene, but I will try. 

There was a pasture of about twenty acres in 
[92] 



SHEEP-DOGS 



extent, in which a flock of sheep were feeding. 
At a given signal a young man — evidently a 
farmer — stepped forth with his dog, to which he 
spoke almost in a whisper. In a twinkling the 
beautiful and intelligent creature leaped forth, 
like an arrow from a bow, and began to gather the 
sheep into a compact mass. This he did without 
alarming them, so that they moved slowly to- 
gether, while still cropping the grass. At the far 
end of the field there was a fold, toward which they 
slowly but surely moved. No sooner, however, 
did they discover what was before them than they 
began to scatter, like young children summoned 
to bed before the accustomed hour ! It was then 
the dog showed his training. His master blew on 
a whistle and he scampered to the right, another 
whistle and he flashed to the left. Now the sheep 
were again moving toward the fold, but they had 
begun to run and were bleating piteously. Evi- 
dently this was not good "form," for there was a 
sharp whistle and the dog dropped to the ground, 
lay motionless for a moment, and then crept 
slowly forward when the panic had subsided. 
Now came the critical moment. The fold was 
built with an opening to the south, but when that 
should have been passed there was another opening 
to the left which led into an enclosure large enough 
to hold the flock. I should have been satisfied 
when the dog had succeeded in getting the sheep 

r 93 1 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

into that, but not so the judges. Both dog and 
sheep were given a moment's rest and then a new 
signal was given, as much as to say: "Now, mind 
your eye!" At the far end of the enclosure was 
a narrow opening through which the sheep must 
pass in Indian file. Into the pen then the dog 
leaped and nosed the bell-wether toward the nar- 
row passage. When that had been done, the others 
followed meekly and found themselves in another 
enclosure, out of which they were, in due time, 
led through the same gateway by which they had 
first entered, and found themselves once more in 
the pasture from which they had been gathered. 
Then the dog came bounding back to his master, 
and crouching at his feet looked up into his face, 
as much as to say: "Was it well done?" There 
was a loud burst of applause, and the farmer 
stooped down and stroked the dog's head as if 
he were saying, "Well done, good and faithful 
servant," and the expression in the creature's 
eyes showed that he had entered into the "joy of 
his lord." 

I did not care to see more, but it might have 
seemed discourteous to withdraw before the 
match was ended, though later I wished I had. 

The second dog was young and evidently ill 

trained, and as his master was foolish, the result 

was what might have been expected. The dog 

ran wild, the sheep scattered, and the master 

[94] 



BRIGANDS AND BOOTBLACKS 



swore. The spectators stood in silence, but it was 
a painful scene. I think one trouble was that 
the man had been drinking. He was a "gentle- 
man," but the young farmer had the good- will of 
all. The English are democratic in sport, and 
all were glad when he was given the prize. 

As we passed the master of the winning dog I 
said how wonderful I thought it all was, and the 
dog slapped the ground with his tail as if he under- 
stood. 

Ruth teasingly said to me: "I suppose now 
you wish you were a farmer !" 

"No," I said, "but I wish I owned that dog," 
and thought of Rex. 

XVIII 

BRIGANDS AND BOOTBLACKS 

The car was not ready for us the next day. 
Indeed, I found that the garage was not able to 
do anything with it, and so telegraphed to Lon- 
don to have a new radiator sent down C. 0. D. 
It was then I was thankful that I had an Ameri- 
can, i. e., a standardized car ! 

I thought it would be well to take advantage 

of the delay to make a little journey by rail to a 

town near by — that is, near as the crow flies — to 

pay a visit to the parents of a lad in the parish 

[95] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

at home. I thought they might like to hear news 
of him, and I knew it would give him pleasure to 
learn that I had seen his people, of whom he had 
often spoken. 

The trains, however, do not follow the track 
of the crow, and I found that what looked like a 
short journey necessitated two changes and rather 
long waits at each junction. I was reminded of a 
bright saying of Mrs. Freeman Allen. When her 
husband was the rector of the parish at Amherst 
some one asked her how long she had been there. 
She answered: "Seven years." But her husband 
said: "No, dear, you are mistaken, only five 
years." To which she replied: "You forget, dear, 
the time spent at Palmer!" 

I reached my destination at about noon. 
Captain Burchell, the father of my young friend, 
is a retired naval officer, and proved to be one of 
the most silent men I had ever met. After he 
had examined my credentials he called his wife, 
and, having invited me to stay to lunch, evidently 
felt he had done his duty — and what more does 
England expect from any sailor ! Nevertheless, 
no one could look at that strong face without see- 
ing that he was one of that fine body of men who 
have kept alive the spirit of the English navy 
during the long years of "inglorious" peace, so 
that if war ever does come, it will be ready. 

The wife made up for the taciturnity of the 
[96] 



BRIGANDS AND BOOTBLACKS 



husband — perhaps was the cause of it ! She was 
keenly interested in hearing about her boy, as, no 
doubt, the father was too, only she said so, and 
he did not ! It was years since they had seen him, 
and probably had given up hope of ever seeing 
him again, and were reconciled. 

I suggested that as it was now an easy thing 
to make the journey, she might be induced to go 
out to him. But at this she cried out. How 
strange it is that the English, who are the masters 
of the sea, have such a dread of it ! Perhaps it is 
because they have lost so many at sea, but what- 
ever may be the reason, it is a fact that the aver- 
age Englishwoman — and the same is almost as 
true of men — seems to think that a trip to New 
York is as dreadful as the voyage of Columbus. 

But I soon found that there were other reasons 
besides the "perils of the great deep" that 
alarmed the gentle lady. 

"I should be afraid of brigands," she said. 

I laughed and said I did not think there was 
much danger from them. 

"But, indeed, there must be. I frequently see 
in the Times accounts of armed men entering into 
the railway carriages and robbing the passengers." 

I had to admit such things did occur, but as 

they happen in the Far West, and her boy now 

lives in New Rochelle, the danger did not seem 

imminent. But as the good lady did not seem to 

[97] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

know whether New Rochelle is a suburb of New 
York or of Omaha, I gave it up. 

Indeed, I soon learned that there were spiritual 
enemies to be feared more dreadful than those of 
flesh and blood. 

She suddenly said: "You have a great many 
dissenters in the 'States,' have you not?" 

"Oh, no," I said. "We have none." 

"You surprise me. Roy [her son] has written 
me that there seem to be more of them than of 
church people, and that their chapels are often 
more beautiful than the churches. I was also 
sorry to hear that he had gone with a young lady 
to one of their places of worship, 'The Fifteenth 
Avenue Church,' I think he called it." 

"Oh," I said, "I see, you mean non-Episco- 
palians. Yes, there are millions of those. But, 
as we have no established church, of course there 
can be no dissenters." 

I confess I thought this rather neat. But she 
solemnly answered: 

"They are dissenters from the church of 
Christ!" 

Fortunately, at that moment the daughter came 
in from tennis, and I hoped that by giving a more 
worldly turn to the conversation I might fare 
better, so said: 

"I have been trying to induce your mother to 
pay your brother a visit, but she does not seem 
[ 98 ] 



BRIGANDS AND BOOTBLACKS 



to like the idea. Perhaps you might enjoy it 
more." 

"Indeed I should not," she cried. "I hear the 
hotels are dreadful." 

I thought of London! but meekly replied 
that I did not think she would find them un- 
bearable. 

"I am sure I should. A friend of mine — Bessie 
Salter, you know, Mumsie — went over to the 
'States' a year ago, and told me, when she re- 
turned, that if one wished to have one's boots 
blacked, one must go down into the cellar and 
cock one's feet up on two iron pegs, and have 
them brushed by a grinning * nigger."' 

I now gave up "for keeps," and wondered why 
I had come! However, I consoled myself with 
the thought that it was part of one's education. 
I felt that I had got to the heart of the great 
middle class of England. It is religious, kindly, 
and self-satisfied to a degree unequalled in the 
world. 

I was rather depressed that evening as I gave 
an account of my day to Ruth. But she laughed 
till the tears came. 

"If only I had been there to see your face! 
Why, it is perfect. If one read it in a book one 
would think the writer was trying to parody 
Dickens on America. Honestly, did it really 
happen, or have you embroidered it?" 
[99] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

"I give you my word, it is the truth, the whole 
truth, and nothing but the truth!" 

"Well, I hope it will be blest to you ! A hun- 
dred years and more of independence, and the 
dear old things think of us as an unworthy 'col- 
ony,' with dissenters and brigands and boot- 
blacks ! My dear, I hope I may never hear you 
brag of that unhappy country again ! And now 
come down and get some dinner. They are going 
to have cherry tart and custard — for a change!" 



XIX 

.THE PISTON-ROD 

To-day we have enjoyed one of the most 
beautiful rides in the world. I do not mean 
grand, like the Corniche, but lovely, because 
man has beautified what the hand of God had 
made. The valley of the Wye would have been 
charming had man never cultivated it, but now 
it blossoms like the rose. We were tempted 
to turn off from the main road that we might 
get a better view of the lovely gardens and 
charming houses all along the way. I believe it 
is disputed whether Kent or Shropshire is the 
more beautiful county; but I cast my vote for 
Shropshire. I reckon Ruth picked out a score 
[ 100 ] 



THE PISTON-ROD 



of houses in which she said, had she them, life 
would be full of joy. 

"Do you wonder," she said, "that Englishmen 
in exile — in India, China, Canada, South Africa, 
and even America — turn back with longing to such 
homes as these? Surely nothing like it is to be 
found on earth ! But it makes me sad to think 
how many of these happy girls playing in these 
gardens must go out to the colonies, and how 
many of those dear little boys may be killed in 
some obscure and unnecessary war! Our people 
have been pilgrims from the beginning, but what 
New Englander going to the West, or what Vir- 
ginian crossing the Alleghanies, or farmers trekking 
from Iowa to Northwest Canada have left any- 
thing like this? No wonder 'Home-week' is 
enough for us ! But the English carry with them 
the smell of the newly turned earth to the deso- 
late, sun-baked plains of India, and the scent of 
the roses to the snows of Hudson's Bay. And 
yet, with all their deep sentiment for home, they 
do not die of nostalgia as do the French when 
they are taken away from the asphalt and the 
theatre! What a people they are!" 

After this rhapsody there was silence for a 
little space, and then Ruth came back to earth 
with the remark: "How fortunate it is that we 
have never had trouble with our tires ! I feared 
we might be changing them all the time." 

[ 101 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

I sapiently remarked: "Well, you see we have 
not gone far enough yet. These tires are guar- 
anteed for five thousand miles." 

She pondered this for a moment, and then said : 
" I don't see how they can be guaranteed, with all 
this broken glass lying about the road. Think 
how the drunken carters throw out the empty 
beer-bottles!" 

I don't know why it is, but at times Ruth irri- 
tates me! It is so hard to explain to a woman 
anything that involves a mathematical problem. 
I made no reply, but the remark troubled me. I 
could not frame an explanation which satisfied me 
or in a way I felt she would understand ! I tried 
on the law of average, like the insurance actuaries, 
but, as I say, I could not get it to suit me. It was 
something like my early attempts to explain to a 
Bible class why Jacob, rather than Esau, should 
have inherited the blessing ! 

However, my mind was soon diverted by the 
charming scenery and the unfamiliar sights on 
every side. But about an hour later an unfamiliar 
sound called me from the beauties of England to 
the motor which I was driving. 

Ruth said: "What can that be?" 

I confessed I did not know. It came at regular 

intervals. When the car ran fast it was quick, 

when I slowed down it lessened in frequency but 

not in volume. I stopped and looked under the 

[ 102] 



THE PISTON-ROD 



hood, but could find nothing amiss. So we con- 
tinued on our way. It seemed to grow worse, 
and soon the whole car was shaken by the jar. 
Then I remembered I had never tested the valves 
to see if they leaked, so I again lifted the hood 
and dropped a few drops of oil on each of the 
valves in turn and started the engine up. Yes, 
that was the trouble, Nos. 2 and 4 were not quite 
tight. I was much pleased with myself, and 
when I had tightened them took my place at the 
wheel, congratulating myself on being such a 
good mechanic. Indeed, I did not think Ruth 
overstated the case when she said: "I think you 
are wonderful." But, alas! the noise and the 
jar continued, and I began to fear that some seri- 
ous injury had been sustained. 

When I opened the hood once more I showed 
Ruth how to start the engine so that I could test 
the engine better than when it was at rest. I 
put my head down so near the cylinder that I 
nearly burned my ear, and found that there was 
no noise at all! I then told her to let in the 
clutch and let the car run on the road slowly. 
"I said 'slowly'!" I cried, as the motor nearly 
ran over me. So Ruth tried again. I hopped 
along by the side of the car as best I could, hear- 
ing the distressing noise more plainly than ever, 
coming, I was now convinced, from the interior 
of the cylinder. 

[ 103] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

"We have broken a piston-rod," I said in a 
calm but desperate tone, "and the car will have 
to be laid up for an indefinite time to replace 
it. 

"But how could we break a piston-rod when 
we have met with no accident that could break 
anything?" exclaimed Ruth. 

Like a doctor who has diagnosed a case to his 
own satisfaction, I could afford to be patient with 
a layman, so I replied: "Well, you see there is 
sometimes a flaw in the metal, and the mere ex- 
pansion and contraction by heat and cold may 
cause the metal to break without any concussion 
at all." 

It was a tiny village in which we had stopped, 
but all the inhabitants had assembled, and it was 
surprising to see how many of them there were ! 

"What's the trouble?" said one. 

"A broken piston-rod," I replied tersely. In- 
deed, annoying as it was, I felt a certain pride in 
the gravity of the situation! I was like a man 
seized with a sudden pain in the night, whose 
trouble the doctor declares to be "appendicitis"; 
he is alarmed, but still has the satisfaction of feel- 
ing that the family will now know that he did not 
call them from their beds for a vulgar stomach- 
ache ! 

I was about to inquire if there was any one in 
the village who had a horse which could tow us 
[ 104 ] 



THE PISTON-ROD 



to the nearest garage, when Ruth remarked: 
"There is one funny thing about it " 

This did irritate me, and I sarcastically re- 
marked: "I am glad your sense of humor is so 
keen. I suppose I am dull, but a broken piston- 
rod does not strike me as 'humorous.'" 

Her eyes filled with tears, as they always do 
when my ill temper takes the form of sarcasm, 
and I felt like the brute I am. So I hurriedly 
added: " It's all right, honey, what were you going 
to say?" 

"I was only going to say," said she, with a 
gulp, and tactfully changing the form of her re- 
mark, "that it seems strange that we should 
hear no sound when we are standing still and 
the engine running if the trouble is a piston-rod." 

I pondered this for a moment and then said: 
"Well, let's see if that is so." I started the en- 
gine and it ran as sweetly as one could wish, but 
as soon as the car began to move — bump, bump, 
bump was heard louder than ever. 

At that moment an urchin, who had been doing 
some investigating on his own hook, called out: 
"Your tire's flat!" 

The announcement was as reassuring and as 
humiliating as to have the doctor say, when you 
were convinced you had appendicitis, "What the 
deuce have you been eating?" This tiny lay- 
man had diagnosed correctly a case which the 
[ 105 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

learned of the faculty had failed to understand ! 
He promptly received his fee and scampered off 
with his companions to spend it before Ruth and 
I had reached the back of the car and were gaz- 
ing at a long nail protruding from the tire of one 
of the rear wheels. 

I had never changed a rim before, but I re- 
membered the agent had told me that it took 
three minutes. It did — and twenty-seven more 
— but what was that compared with a week's 
waiting to have a broken piston-rod replaced ? 

When we were again under way, I said: "We 
were talking this morning about the guarantee 
on tires, and I ought to have explained that the 
guarantee, of course, refers only to the bursting 
of a tire and not to an accident like this." Why 
is it we men cannot make up our minds to tell 
the truth to the wives of our bosoms ? I have not 
in mind now our wickedness but our folly. Ruth 
knew as well as I did that this great truth had 
not dawned on my clouded brain until the rusty 
nail had punctured the tire and my ignorance at 
the same time! Of course she expressed her 
gratification at this bit of valuable information. 
What would women do with their spare time if 
they did not have to waste so much of it in " saving 
the faces" of their lords! 



[ 106 ] 



FALSTAFF 



XX 

FALSTAFF 

We were destined to have another experience 
with the car that day before we reached our 
destination. As we drew near Shrewsbury there 
was a sharp shower, which, though it did not last 
many minutes, was enough to make the roads 
rather greasy. As we had, however, such a short 
distance to go, it did not seem worth while to put 
on the chains. As we drove along the main street 
I was very careful, fearing we might skid. There 
is a tramway running through the street, which 
did not make things easier, for the rails were wet 
and shining in the rain. The street is lined with 
trees, and on one side is a high brick wall. My 
subconscious mind was noting all these things and 
perhaps allowing me to drive a little faster than 
I had intended, when suddenly the car, as if it 
were possessed of a devil, shot from the track to 
the sidewalk, passing between two trees, grazing 
the wall, and was back again on the rails before 
one could say "Jack Robinson," or even the Eng- 
lish equivalent, "Knife"! It was not the rear 
wheels which had slipped but the front ones ! No 
one had ever told me that could happen, nor 
should I have known how to guard against it if 
they had. Was it not fortunate that it was the 
[ 107] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

tea hour that the car chose for this little side-trip ? 
All the tradespeople were in the back rooms be- 
hind their shops, and the street was almost de- 
serted. I trembled to think what might have 
happened had children been on their way to or 
from school, or feeble folk had failed to jump like 
grasshoppers! I never was more thankful than 
when I turned the motor into the garage of the 
"Raven." 

Our first business in Shrewsbury was, of course, 
to visit the battle-field. I reminded Ruth as we 
drove out of the town the following morning of 
a saying of yours: that the best investment any 
nation or town could make was to breed a genius ! 
"Sir Walter Scott," you said, "had brought more 
money to Scotland than all the ship-building on 
the Clyde, and that the money spent each year 
in Marseilles, by men and women who came from 
all over the world to look at the Chateau d'lf, 
and speculate as to which side of it a man, who 
had never lived, had escaped could not be counted 
for multitude!" It is the same here. What 
a triumph of the imagination it is that after 
four hundred years pilgrims should still be wend- 
ing their way to the field of Shrewsbury, as 
many were doing that morning ! Not because it 
was historical — as the French say — "they mock 
themselves well of that." It is Shakespeare who 
is the Pied Piper that led us all to the spot where 
[ 103 ] 



FALSTAFF 



Harry Monmouth and Hotspur fought indeed, 
but where Falstaff bore off the honors of the day ! 
What a futile fight it was ! Would not England 
have been better off if Percy had won ? Did not 
the triumph of Henry IV sow the dragon's teeth 
that were harvested in the Wars of the Roses? 
Did it not lead to the desolation of France and the 
crime of Jeanne d' Arc's death? It is the genius 
of Shakespeare alone which lends glamour to this 
stupidity. Look at the heroes ! Has any figure 
in history, except the miserable Stuarts, called 
forth such sympathy as the reckless Hotspur? 
How much Percy resembles our national hero! 
It is the feminine in us that admires Henry V — 
the reformed rake! It would seem as if the 
prudent, calculating world reacts in shame from 
Henry IV, as if it saw in him a picture of itself, 
and admires the reckless Percy just because it 
dare not follow him! Falstaff is the real hero. 
The fool at the feast of folly ! Gross and witty, 
brave enough but cynical — what genius to draw 
respectable people to such companionship and 
compel them to enjoy it though they are ashamed 
to be seen with him ! I suppose the real explana- 
tion of this moral paradox is that human nature 
esteems a sinner more than it does a hypocrite. 
The Lord Chancellor was a more respectable man 
than Falstaff, but he was a humbug, and we are 
glad the fat knight flouted him. 
[ 109 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

While I was thus moralizing and, no doubt, 
boring Ruth, we had reached the battle-field, and 
she exclaimed: "Why, there is Mr. Rhodes!" — 
the historian, whom she had known in Boston — 
and ran to meet him. 

"Oh, Mr. Rhodes," she cried, "I am sure you 
have made some new historical discovery!" 

"I have, indeed," he gravely replied, but with 
a twinkle in his eye. 

"Tell me at once what it is," she asked eagerly. 

"I have discovered a new He of Falstaff's — he 
'fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock,' and 
the clock is not visible from the battle-field ! " 

Shrewsbury was one of the ancient and is still 
one of the modern gates into Wales, and had we 
been tied to a route we should have entered the 
kindgom of Glendower from there, but we re- 
ceived two letters which changed our plans, and 
led us to leave the motor, and depart in different 
directions by train. Of which you will hear in 
due time. 



[ no J 



THE BLACK COUNTRY 



XXI 

THE BLACK COUNTRY 

My letter was from Archdeacon Williams. I 
had never met him but had read his books and 
been much influenced by them, as I know you 
have been. To tell the truth, I hesitated about 
accepting his invitation to spend the "week-end," 
for I feared I might be disappointed ! Authors 
are like miners: they put the precious metal into 
their books, but when one gets to the mine there 
is apt to be a lot of "slag" lying about! But it 
was not so in this case. The books are the man 
— he lives as he talks. 

England is the land of contrasts. Shropshire 
seems to belong to another planet, when one gets 
into the dark and chilly atmosphere of the black 
country. It was most depressing. Instead of the 
charming vicarage I had pictured, I found a 
plain brick house on the street of the town, and 
instead of a blooming garden, a few sickly shrubs, 
blackened, like everything else, by the smoke 
from the mills. 

But within all was sweetness and light. The 

house was overflowing with delightful children, 

and every one seemed to be at work. Or, perhaps 

I should say, every one seemed to have a purpose, 

[ HI ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

for as I arrived at tea-time, work had been sus- 
pended. 

There was but one drawback: the archdeacon 
does not smoke, and does not seem to have heard 
that any one else does! I thought that three 
days would be more than I could bear. But, 
indeed, mind and body were kept so busy that I 
hardly missed my pipe at all ! Can I say more ? 

The archdeacon and I sat up until all hours of 
the night, talking of the things which are most 
worth while. 

He is an extraordinary man — not only a good 
classical scholar but also a notable mathema- 
tician. He is quite at home in all the scientific 
theories which are the vogue to-day, and insisted 
that theology can have no interest for the modern 
mind until theologians abandon the mediaeval, 
a priori method for the inductive, and use words 
as the symbols of truths which can be verified. 
Then it will be found that the "faith" for which 
the saints contended was the reality without 
which man cannot five. He said many things of 
which I will tell you when we meet; but one I 
send you now, for you might have said it your- 
self! "Men are forever talking about 'faith' as 
if the important thing were the quantity of it, 
whereas the thing that matters is its quality. 
The faith which overcame the world is not the 
mass of opinion which has accumulated through 
[ H2] 



THE BLACK COUNTRY 



the ages, but the deep conviction that God is 
Spirit, and that the character of that Spirit has 
been revealed in the person of Jesus." 

The way the man works would, I think, aston- 
ish you. This is what we did on Saturday: 
breakfast at 8, then prayers in the parish church 
at 9. He agrees with Bishop Creighton that it is 
better to have many of the parish come together 
for prayers each day than to have family prayers, 
with which, I am sure, you will no more agree 
than I do ! At 9.30 he shut himself in his study 
and did not appear again until 1 o'clock. Then 
we had dinner, all the family taking part in the 
talk, which was good, and I listened. The last 
you will not believe, but it is true ! 

Mrs. Williams is as remarkable in her way as 
he, and is a real intellectual companion. When 
I spoke to him of her, he said: "Think of the men 
who are asphyxiated by dull wives !" I did ! 

The children adore their father, though Rose 
— a girl of about twelve — told me they could have 
a pony if their father did not give so much to 
the poor. When I suggested that this was a 
good way to use money, she agreed, but added: 
"It seems a pity there is not enough for both." 
In which opinion, no doubt, many will agree. 

At 2.30 a large van drove up to the door, and 
into it we all piled, except the very little ones, to 
go to the Sunday-school treat. We stopped at 
[ 113 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

many a corner to pick up the teachers — all of 
whom were workers in the mills — and drove to a 
grove some miles away, where the feast was 
spread. 

I sat next a man of about fifty years of age, 
who, when he learned that I was an American, 
"let himself go." He had friends who had mi- 
grated to the "States," and admitted that the 
wages were much larger than in England, but 
added that, as the expense of living was so much 
greater, there was not much in it. I did not re- 
mind him that the greater expense meant also 
better living conditions, for I wanted to hear 
him talk. He complained that our people worked 
longer hours than they did, and were so tired at 
the end of the day that they could not enjoy the 
rest when it came. He wanted to know if the 
tariff helped our trade. I laughed and told him 
there was great difference of opinion on that 
subject, and that I did not pretend to be an 
authority, but was inclined to think that the 
willingness of the workers to use new machinery 
had more to do with our prosperity than ary- 
thing the government did. 

"Ay," said he, "that is what the masters tell 
us, but we do not heed them. We know that this 
new machinery can be speeded up till a man's 
heart is broke." 

It was not the man's opinion that interested 
[ H4] 



THE BLACK COUNTRY 



me so much as his willingness to talk; for I had 
heard frequent complaints that the working men 
would talk freely only with their mates. But I 
got a new light on that, for, when we had risen 
and sung "God Save the King," my neighbor 
turned to me and said: "You will excuse me if I 
have talked too free, but this is the first time in 
my life that I ever talked with a gentleman." 

I could have wept. "But," I said, "you must 
often have talked to the vicar?" 

"Ay," he replied, "but he is a man." And 
with this cryptic saying I had to be content ! 

One other thing he told me that I am sure will 
interest you. He said that in the dark days of 
the cotton famine, during our Civil War, he could 
remember as a little boy seeing his father go, with 
many others, to receive the food distributed to 
the poor. "That was the only time any of my 
name received anything from the rates, and it 
was bitter hard for father. There were men who 
came up from Liverpool and told us that if the 
working men of Lancashire would send a deputa- 
tion to Parliament, the war would be stopped, 
and we could get cotton to open the mills. But 
my father was one of those who said that it was 
the cause of free labor you were fighting for, and 
that if the men would hold on a bit, God would 
come to our help. He learned that, I now know, 
from John Bright. And so the men held out. 
f 115 1 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

But it was hard." Isn't that fine? And doesn't 
it make Lord John Russell and Gladstone look 
cheap ? 

By some ill chance Rose and I got separated 
from the rest of the party, and the van drove off 
without us. When Rose learned this, she thought 
it a huge joke, and said we should have to walk. 
I said: "Not on your life !" This familiar saying 
filled her with delight, and she cried: "Oh, I say, 
that is a jolly saying; I must tell that to Dick, 
and he can take it back to school ! " 

"That is all very well," said I, "but what is 
going to take us back to home?" 

She suggested a "fly." I solemnly remarked 
that I did not believe there was a fly big enough 
to carry us both. 

She looked at me for a moment in astonish- 
ment and then cried: "Why, I believe you are 
thinking of an insect !" 

I asked what else one could think of. She 
pondered this a moment and then said she be- 
lieved I was making game of her. Nothing, I 
assured her, was farther from my thoughts. 

"Well," she said, "if you are sure you don't 
know, I will tell you; a fly is something that a 
horse pulls." 

I asked if it was a cart. But apparently she 
had given me up as hopeless, and taking me by 
the hand, led me to a livery-stable, where the 
[116] 



THE BLACK COUNTRY 



proprietor produced a fly and announced that the 
price would be ten shillings, and asked if he 
should "put it down" to the vicar. Rose looked 
much alarmed at this, and was proportionately 
relieved when I paid the amount. 

There was silence for a little space after we 
started, and then Rose said, as if to herself: 
"Daddy would have walked." 

"Yes," I replied, "but you must remember he 
is over six feet tall, and his stride is about three- 
foot-three, whereas I step only about two-foot- 
six; so you can calculate how much longer it 
would take me to walk seven miles than it would 
him." 

"Don't you hate arithmetic?" she exclaimed. 

I admitted that I was not fond of it. 

"I simply loathe it," she declared. "Such a 
silly thing, I call it! Why should one spend 
hours in trying to find out how many yards of 
carpet it takes to cover the schoolroom floor, when 
all one has to do is to run through Tod Lane and 
ask Mr. Small, who keeps the shop, and he can 
tell in a moment, without even looking at a book." 

"But suppose Mr. Small thought it to his ad- 
vantage to sell you more carpet than you needed ? " 

"Why, he wouldn't do such a thing," she in- 
dignantly replied; "he is a churchwarden." 

There was another short silence and then she 
began again: "Ten shillings is a lot of money." 
[117] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

I agreed. 

"However," she continued, "I suppose it 
doesn't signify. Americans are very rich, are 
they not?" 

I said some were. 

"But you must be to hand out ten shillings just 
like that." 

"Oh, I don't know. My share is only five shil- 
lings. You will pay half, will you not?" 

"Not living!" she hastily exclaimed. "There, 
I have that wrong. Please say it again." When 
I had repeated the familiar slang, she echoed it. 
Evidently it gave her great satisfaction, for I 
heard her muttering it to herself over and over 
again. Finally she said: "That is a jolly saying." 
Then, with apparent irrelevance — but that no 
doubt was due to my slowness in following her 
mental processes — " I am glad you came." 

I laughed and said I was glad too. 

"Not," continued this artless young person, 
" that we were glad when we first heard you were 
coming — I mean except daddy. Mother said: 
'Dear me! I fear he will expect a bathroom to 
himself!' And Dick said: 'Is he as dirty as all 
that ? ' Even daddy laughed at that. And Dick 
was so much pleased with himself that he got a 
bit above himself, and went on to say that all 
Americans were 'bounders.' So daddy stopped 
his 'sweet,' and he did look silly! But it seems 
[118] 



AN "AVERAGE" SUNDAY 



to me you are just like other people, only rather 
'droU.'" 

As we drew near the house she evidently began 
to think that, after all, Dick might be an au- 
thority on "bounders," for she remarked, with 
studied carelessness: "I shouldn't think it neces- 
sary to repeat at home everything we have been 
talking about." 

I gravely assured her that I made it a rule 
never to repeat the conversation I had had with 
the young lady I took buggy-riding. 

"Buggy-riding?" she cried; "what is that?" 
"Why, what you call a fly, we call a buggy." 
Her reaction was rather deliberate, but finally 
she exclaimed: "Oh, I see. 'Bug' and 'fly.' 
That's awfully good. I must tell Dick that!" 



XXII 

AN "AVERAGE" SUNDAY 

Sunday was "some" day! Early service at 8 
o'clock, a hurried breakfast at 8.45, and then we 
started for the mission chapel, where the arch- 
deacon was to preach. I was curious to see how 
this scholar would adapt himself to the sort of 
congregation I knew he would meet there. Noth- 
ing could have been better. He did not "con- 
[ 119] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

descend to men of low estate," but gave them as 
thoughtful a message as he would have delivered 
at the university, yet clothed in such simple lan- 
guage as the most unlearned could understand. 

"Truly," I said to myself, "here is a scribe who 
bringeth out of his treasure things new as well as 
old." 

The archdeacon has, of course, besides his duty 
as vicar, many calls for work outside the parish. 
I was told that this day he was to preach at a 
church some twelve miles distant, and, therefore, 
there would be no time for dinner ! However, 
Mrs. Williams made us a package of sandwiches, 
which we munched as we drove to the church 
where he was to preach the annual sermon on 
education. 

The church was a barn of a place, and the 
atmosphere decidedly "evangelical." There were 
the old square pews which one sees in pictures of 
the eighteenth century; and when we knelt down 
my legs were covered by the voluminous folds of 
a bright-blue silk dress, worn by a farmer's wife, 
so that I was not quite sure of my identity, till a 
pair of stout white stockings, encasing most solid 
ankles, showed me that my own legs had not yet 
emerged ! 

The sermon was a plea for parochial schools, 
which would have left me cold had it not been 
for the interpretation of the Parable of the Sower, 
[ 120 ] 



AN "AVERAGE" SUNDAY 



from which the text was taken. "The soil," said 
the preacher, "is human nature. At the first 
glance it might seem as if man was no more re- 
sponsible for his character than is a field for the 
different conditions of its soil. But there would 
have been no 'gospel,' that is, 'good news,' in 
that. No, what it means, every farmer will un- 
derstand. There is no soil that is hopeless, and 
none that does not need to be cultivated. Our 
schools are to make poor soil good, and good soil 
better." And so on. 

On the way home the subject of education could 
not be ignored. The archdeacon was none too 
pleased to learn that I did not think well of pa- 
rochial schools, and insisted that "godless" schools 
were worse than none. He would not agree that 
dogmatic teaching might be dispensed with and 
yet character be built up. When I pointed out 
that Jews and Catholics made up a large part of 
our urban population, and, not unnaturally, the one 
objected to Christian and the other to Protestant 
teaching, he could only see how unfortunate it was 
that we had no Established Church ! Once more I 
was impressed by the fact that no man is liberal 
all through ! Though he had been in the " States," 
his journey had led him only to the South — and 
that, too, in the days of Reconstruction. He had 
never seen New York or Ohio or New England, 
so that I could not feel that he was to be blamed 
[ 121 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

for thinking poorly of our school system. But 
he made one remark worth remembering, to see 
if he is a "seer" as well as a prophet, which latter 
he assuredly is. 

"You are doing the thing on the 'cheap.' You 
do not pay your teachers enough to make it worth 
while for men to make teaching a profession, and, 
as a result, not only the girls but the boys as 
well are for years under the influence of women. 
This is bad and cannot fail to affect the national 
character — as you will find if a great crisis were 
to come. It may, as I have heard it said, tend 
to 'refinement' of speech and manners, but the 
price is too high. It will make them effeminate, 
that is, sentimental, and sometimes hysterical. 
It is the manly virtues of endurance and disre- 
gard of trifles, which men alone can inculcate, 
which have made England what she is. Should 
a great war come — and I fear that cannot be long 
delayed — you will find your boys cannot bear the 
strain." 

I hope that, as Nehemiah liked to say, " It may 
be counted to me for righteousness" that I re- 
frained from mentioning 1776, or 1812, or even 
the Civil War— the "Bloody Angle," and Pickett's 
charge at Gettysburg — for that might have raised 
the Alabama ! 

In the evening I preached in the parish church 
— "the noblest parish church in England," I was 
[ 122 ] 



AN "AVERAGE" SUNDAY 



told Ruskin called it. Well, the sermon was not 
worthy of the church. I don't know what was 
the matter. You know how such things go ! 
One trouble was that, all the time I was speaking, 
I wished to say something else! Ruth haunted 
me! I could hear her whispering: "Better be 
dull and decent than 'start something'!" So I 
was dull ! 

At nine o'clock we sat down to a supper of cold 
beef and bread and cheese, and mighty good they 
tasted. Now was not that a day? I asked the 
archdeacon if it had been an exceptional day. 
"Oh, no," he said, "I should say an average day. 
I often go to the town hall after evening service 
and speak to the men who do not care to come to 
church. 'Securalists,' they call themselves, and 
as they are almost sure to heckle one, it is gen- 
erally interesting, and sometimes exhausting." 

There is no doubt that the English clergy work 
harder than we do — that is, those who pretend 
to work. While Americans find the climate try- 
ing, I am inclined to think one can accomplish 
more in a climate like this than in ours, which 
alternately exhilarates and depresses one. But 
I suspect there is a deeper reason which we do 
not like to admit, which is that they are better 
educated than we are ! With us there is too much 
"cramming" for the occasion, whereas they have 
a treasury from which they can draw as they have 
[ 123 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

need. It is possible also that there is an advan- 
tage in an established church which has not been 
recognized. While the "dumb dogs" take ad- 
vantage of the "vested interest" to do as little as 
possible, the best men work in an atmosphere of 
leisure almost unknown to us. Unconsciously we 
are influenced by the competition which is the 
"life of trade." I do not mean that we do this 
in any unworthy manner, but with the subcon- 
scious feeling that we are expected to "make 
good," and this leads to "pressing," which is as 
fatal to the best work as it is to the best golf! 
Men like Williams seem to me to work without 
haste and without rest. 

It was no "Blue Monday" to which I awoke. 
All was healthy activity, as if Sunday had been 
indeed a day of rest. The children were shooed 
into the schoolroom, for though it was the holi- 
days, there were tasks which must be done before 
the next term. Mrs. Williams had a meeting of 
women, for some good work, and the archdeacon 
had gone to his study as soon as breakfast was 
finished to talk over and arrange with his curates 
the work of the new week. 

So I drove to the station in a "fly," and bought 
a third-class ticket. But as I was about to take 
my place, the guard appeared and, touching his 
cap, asked if I was from the vicarage. When I 
said, "Yes," he said, "This way, please," and 
[ 124] 



DOWAGER AND COWBOY 



showed me into a first-class carriage, the door of 
which he promptly locked, when he had again 
touched his cap and said: "Thank you, sir." 

" But," you will say, "this was ' graft ' ! " How 
crude you are! Do you not know that "graft" 
is confined to Tammany Hall? This was proper 
respect to persons of importance ! 

"Convey, the wise it call. Steal! foh; a fico 
for the phrase." 



XXIII 

DOWAGER AND COWBOY 

John left me on Friday for Saltbridge, to visit 
Archdeacon Williams, whom, as you know, he is 
always quoting. They have never met and I do 
hope they will not be disappointed in one an- 
other, and that John will behave ! I feel like a 
mother whose child has gone to visit strangers. 
However, I comfort myself with the thought that 
children often behave better when they are left 
alone — I suppose because they then have a keener 
sense of responsibility ! 

I expect him back this afternoon and am hasten- 
ing to write you before his return, for I would 
not have him see this letter for worlds. He would 
never cease teasing me about my "beloved 
English." 

[ 125 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

He had scarcely gone before a telegram came 
from Gertrude Shelburne, asking me to come to 
them for the week-end. I was glad to get it, 
first, because I am devoted to her, and second, 
because I wanted to see their place, which I had 
been told was beautiful — I suppose I ought to 
add that I had already begun to be a trifle triste 
without John. 

On the map it did not look far from Shrews- 
bury to Deepford, but the porter told me it would 
save time if I went up to "town" and caught the 
Brighton express, which would stop at Deepford 
if I told the guard I was for Admiral Shel- 
burne's. This did not seem probable, but it 
proved to be true. 

I arrived for tea, which was being served on the 
lawn, quite as in an English novel. I felt some- 
what like the poor governess, in such stories, who 
is destined ultimately to marry the heir of the 
adjoining estate, but has not yet discovered her 
fate ! For I was feeling a little shy — not because 
the people were so fine, but because they were so 
intimate. If one does not know the people talked 
of in an English household, it looks as if one did 
not know anybody ! However, that did not last 
long, for Gertrude, who had been motoring with 
a young man when I arrived, soon appeared and 
made me feel at home. 

If I were a human pig I should arrange to have, 
[ 126] 



DOWAGER AND COWBOY 



each day, an American breakfast, a French dinner, 
and an English tea ! What would I do for 
luncheon? Do as I did to-day. Go without 
one in order to enjoy the tea ! 

Admiral Sir George Shelburne, as I believe he 
is formally called, is as delightful as ever. He 
kissed me, not quite with the paternal air which 
should go with his years, but rather like one who 
has had a sweetheart in every port ! He is under 
the impression that he rules the house as he once 
ruled a man-of-war. As a matter of fact, Ger- 
trude manages him and every one else ! 

After tea the admiral asked me if I would like 
to see the gardens. As this was the "first time 
of asking" I was able to say with a clear con- 
science that I should be delighted. How I wish 
you might see these gardens! There is a "lady's 
walk" that you would rejoice to make a water- 
color of. It is enclosed by brick walls of a deep 
red, and the borders are a riot of color. Take 
down your Latin dictionary and read anywhere 
in it, and you will get a notion of the names the 
admiral called off to me ! Whether they were 
right or wrong I have no means of knowing, but 
it sounded very learned. I asked the admiral if 
his taste had laid out the lady's walk, and he 
modestly admitted that it had; and the best of 
it is he believes it. Gertrude is a wonder ! 

The "guests" were a young man who is secre- 
[ 127 1 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

tary to some one in the government, and is 
never separated from a despatch-box, supposed 
to contain international secrets upon which the 
peace of the world depends. I do not think I 
ever met any one who took himself quite so seri- 
ously. He is supposed to be devoted to Gertrude, 
and is probably as much interested in her as he 
can be in any one besides himself. So I fear she 
is, at best, but a bad second 1 There is, however, 
trouble brewing for that young man, as I learned 
as soon as I saw a "photo" (by the way, one never 
says "photograph" in polite society, but "photo," 
and "pram," and "bike." It is a liberty the 
owners take with their language. This sounds like 
John, the reason being that for the moment I feel 
like John. But you will be saying: "What about 
the photograph ? ") How curious you are ! Well, 
if you must know, it is of a young naval officer the 
Shelburnes met at "Gib," two years ago. He has 
a straight nose and a firm chin a la Gibson, and 
blue eyes, and his name is Guy. Doesn't this tell 
you all you need to know? The admiral is sup- 
posed to favor the young man with the despatch- 
box — possibly because he knows too much about 
sweethearts in every port. How do you guess it 
will end? See what powers of condensation I 
have! It took Gertrude two hours to tell me 
what I have written in a few moments ! 
There are two perfectly uninteresting men be- 
[ 128 ] 



DOWAGER AND COWBOY 



sides the one already spoken of, and three non- 
descript women who devoted themselves to me. 
Only one of them calls for any attention. This is 
Lady Agatha Bumstead. She is handsome and 
really means to be nice, but unfortunately she 
has been in the "States," and does not want to 
hear, but only to tell about them. 

After dinner, while the men were sitting over 
their wine, she suddenly said to me: "Have you 
any honest judges in America now?" 

I said I hoped so. 

She replied: "I am glad to hear it. When I 
was in New York, with my dear husband (she is 
a dowager), I remember they were trying a judge 
for taking a bribe, and I was told it was quite 
common." 

I said I supposed that was in the time of the 
Tweed regime. 

"Yes," she replied, "that was the name of the 
governor" (sic). 

I said I thought things had improved since 
then, and that, after all, he was but one of the 
hundreds of American judges, and that it was 
hardly fair to condemn the whole bench because 
of the iniquity of one Tammany judge. 

"But," she said, "I thought all the judges in 
America were appointed by Tammany. I re- 
member my husband said, when he was trying to 
recover some of the money he had put into that 
[ 129 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 



awful Erie, that all the judges were appointed by 
Tammany." 

Hoping to get a more favorable view of America 
if I moved out of New York, I asked if she had 
travelled much in the "States." 

"Far more than I wished," she dryly remarked. 

I expressed my sympathy. 

"You see," she continued, "it is hard for people 
of refinement to put up with the lack of manners 
in America. Of course, you will not misunder- 
stand me, my dear; I do not mean people like 
yourself; indeed, as I was saying to Sir George 
at dinner, I should hardly know you were an 
American. I had in mind the lower classes." 

I feebly remarked that I thought they meant 
to be "kind." 

"Kind, my dear," she exclaimed in a shocked 
tone. "What business have they to be 'kind'? 
It is for us to be kind, for them to be respectful. 
I cannot say I met any such. I had an experi- 
ence once which left an indelible impression on 
my mind. You," she continued, turning to one 
of the other women, who were drinking in this 
unprejudiced view of our country, "can have no 
conception of what that country really is. While 
we were in New York, trying to save something 
out of the wreck of the Erie, my husband met a 
man from the West who told him that there was 
a fortune to be made in silver-mines, and he 
f 130 1 



DOWAGER AND COWBOY 



started with him to look into it. I may say here 
that he lost every penny he put into this venture. 
The mines were 'pickled' — no, I think the word 
they used was 'salted.' 

"However, that does not signify now — what I 
was going to tell you was, that he was detained 
longer than he had expected, and wrote me to 
join him in a place called Cheyenne. So I started; 
but what I endured in those sleeping-cars I never 
told even my husband. It wasn't proper! The 
passengers were of the most ordinary type, mostly 
bagmen, I should say. And the women ! Vulgar 
and overdressed. I must say, however, I was 
rather pleased with the black man who waited 
on the passengers. He was rather grotesque, but 
was the only one I saw who seemed to have at 
all the bearing of a servant, and even he had a 
habit of smiling when spoken to which looked 
like impudence, till one learned that the poor 
creature had never been properly trained. Well, 
at length we reached Cheyenne. I had been told 
that it was the capital of the State, or whatever 
the district was called, and you may imagine my 
disgust when I found that it was a mere jumble 
of miserable wooden houses. 

"My husband was not there to meet me — he 

had gone into the mountains to inspect a mine, 

and there had been a 'wash-out' or a 'hot-box.' 

I am sure I do not know the difference; I only 

[ 131] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

know it was either the one or the other which 
continually caused delays. So there I was, with 
no one to meet me, and it was night. I looked 
round for a porter, and of course there was none. 
I saw a rough-looking man leaning against the 
station-house, and said to him: 'My man, carry 
my portmanteau to the hotel, please.'" 

The pause which followed was so long that I 
thought the story ended, or that the narrator had 
fallen asleep. But I was mistaken — her emo- 
tion choked her. Finally one of the others said: 

"And what happened then?" 

In a sepulchral tone she answered: "He spat! 
Then, without a word, he picked up the bag and 
led the way to the hotel. I handed him a shil- 
ling, and instead of touching his cap — by the way, 
it was not a cap at all, but a hat with a huge 
brim — which, if you please, he took off with a 
flourish and, declining the tip, remarked: 'Always 
a pleasure to help a lady!' I thought I should 
have died of shame at his insolence !" 

I nearly choked, but fortunately did not, for 
every one else was shocked. After a painful 
silence Lady Agatha continued: "I must say 
some people have a peculiar sense of humor. I 
told this shocking story to Charlie Beresford, and 
he laughed till the tears ran down his face, and 
asked me to let him put it into a book he is writ- 
ing on America. But I would not consent. It 
[ 132] 



DOWAGER AND COWBOY 



might give offense — Americans are very sensitive 
— and I think it most important that nothing 
should be done to cause ill-feeling between the 
two countries, for, as Sir George was saying at 
dinner, one cannot tell how soon we may need 
one another's help." 

Here Gertrude, who had been walking on the 
terrace with the complacent secretary, came in 
and took me to her room to talk about the blue- 
eyed Guy. 

Now you see why I do not want John to see 
this letter. He thinks he has a strong sense of 
humor, but it is ten to one he would no more 
understand the dowager than she understood the 
gentleman in the sombrero. How I should like 
to meet Sir Charles Beresford and hear him on 
dowagers and cowboys ! 

But, honestly, are not the English the most 
impossible people! I do not mean ridiculous — 
no one would accuse them of being that — but 
funny as the camel is. "There ain't no sich 
animal." Only there is ! 



[ 133 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 



XXIV 

"BY PURENESS, BY KINDNESS, BY LOVE 
UNFEIGNED " 

Before leaving Shrewsbury I had told Ruth 
on which train I would leave Saltbridge, and, as 
I had to change trains at Manchester, she could 
send a wire to the station there if she had any 
special orders to give me. The wire was await- 
ing me, and from it I found that not only had 
Ruth gone off "on her own" to Deepford, but 
that she had received an invitation from the 
Sanfords asking us both to come to them. She 
said that she was proceeding to London, and that 
she would go to the Sanfords' by train, and hoped 
I would meet her there with the car. 

So I returned to Shrewsbury, where we had left 
the car, and the next day drove slowly through 
Stratford-on-Avon, where I had been before, and 
so did not stop, waiting till Ruth and I could 
make the pilgrimage together. I caught a glimpse 
of the spire of the parish church and could "vis- 
ualize" the smug bust in the chancel, which an 
ungrateful town permits to be called Shakespeare ! 

I stopped the night at Banbury, where there is 

one of those old coaching inns which affect the 

imagination like an old print. The following day 

I went on to Oxford, where I left the car, and ran 

[ 134] 



"BY PURENESS, BY KINDNESS, BY LOVE" 

up to London for some necessary shopping. 
This, I know, will make you indignant, but I am 
going to "do" Oxford when Ruth, that lover of 
"Lost Causes," is with me. Besides, as my next 
journey is to the northeast, it was better to leave 
the car at Oxford than to go through London. 

When I returned to Oxford I went again on my 
way and spent the night at Ipswich, in the same 
inn in which Mr. Pickwick had the compromising 
adventure with the lady in curl-papers. But 
there was nothing seen to recall that joyous night. 
No one I saw looked as if he had ever heard of 
the most distinguished guest the inn had ever 
entertained ! 

The next day I reached the Sanfords' for tea. 
I understand now why the heroine in an English 
novel always arrives at tea-time ! It is the ideal 
hour. One does not have to dress for a function 
and is received into the family at once. 

This family consists of but two — the husband 
and wife — a lovely couple. I do not know which 
of them we loved best when the visit was over. 
An ancestor of Mr. Sanford's was one of the non- 
jurors — and that night I lay in his bed. As a bed 
it was a good bed, but as a place for sleeping it 
was naught — as Touchstone would have said. 
As I lay awake I thought of the noble folly of the 
non-jurors, and of Macaulay's unsympathetic 
picture of them, though, curiously enough, the 
[ 135] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

only time he speaks well of a bishop, so far as 1 
remember, is when he praises the "seven bish- 
ops." How characteristic this is! They are 
admirable when they defy the Stuart, but con- 
temptible when they refuse to bow the knee to 
his Dutch hero! These thoughts led me on to 
Henry Esmond — that most interesting prig — and 
so on, hour after hour, the mind wandered 
through the history of England till I longed for 
the scenery of the land of Nod ! 

I would not have you think that my wakeful- 
ness was due solely to the imagination awakened 
by the old non-juror's bed. It was due to a 
more modern and more material cause, namely 
the strong Ceylon tea, which was so good that I 
had taken more than I am accustomed to. What 
we call "English Breakfast," the English call 
"China" tea, and, so far as my experience goes, is 
seldom served. Certainly it could not have been 
expected in this house, because Mr. Sanford is 
largely interested in the cultivation of Ceylon 
tea and, not unnaturally, thinks it superior to 
China. It is undoubtedly good, but so strong 
that it is apt to be followed by a sleepless night 
on the part of the uninitiated. 

The next day was Sunday, which began, I need 

not say, with a bountiful breakfast, at which, of 

course, we served ourselves, Mr. Sanford walking 

around the room with a little blue bowl in his 

[ 136] 



"BY PURENESS, BY KINDNESS, BY LOVE" 

hand, eating porridge and talking delightfully. 
By the way, do you believe the story of the 
American "Belle Mere," who, arriving at the 
castle of her noble son-in-law late at night and 
therefore coming to the dining-room for the first 
time at breakfast, and, seeing no servants, said to 
her daughter: "Honey, can't you get no 'help' at 
all over here ?" I do not. Ruth does, and begged 
me not to tell the story here lest it be thought 
that the good lady was typical ! 

I do not think Mrs. Sanford would have be- 
lieved it. But, if she had, she would have under- 
stood, for she has many American friends and a 
more sympathetic understanding of our problems 
than any one I have so far met in England. Mr. 
Sanford was rather inclined to be depressed about 
England, and deplored the present policy of the 
Liberal Government — especially in regard to land. 
Of course I know nothing about the matter, but I 
could not help thinking I heard a faint echo of the 
old non-juror's voice. This, however, is sure, he 
is the quintessence of the feudal system at its 
best, having its deep sense of responsibility. 

We walked to the little church, which is at 
their gate, and as we drew near and met the peo- 
ple on their way to worship, I was struck by the 
affection — so much better than perfunctory re- 
spect — with which my hosts were greeted both by 
farmers and tenants alike. 
[ 137] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

Mr. Sanford showed Ruth and me into the 
second pew in the transept, while he and his wife 
occupied the one in front of it, which is the 
squire's. He read the lessons, and I wished I 
could read as well ! I once heard a distinguished 
minister at home praised for his reading of the 
Bible because it "sounded so modern — as if he 
were reading the morning paper." Well, his read- 
ing was not in the least like that ! He read with 
deep reverence, as "The covenant made with our 
fathers" and now delivered unto us. 

The rector, a cousin of our host's, was indis- 
posed, and his place was taken by a near-by vicar. 
The sermon had neither the interest of the morn- 
ing paper nor the awe of an ancient revelation! 
Indeed, it was a stupid thing, which I guessed 
was one of those which, it is said, can be bought 
"ready made," and of any shade of churchman- 
ship. This one had no color at all ! 

The preacher was invited to dine with the 
squire and accepted. He must be a survival. 
He explained the difficulty the country parson 
has in collecting his tithes. Turning to his host, 
he said: "I had a most disagreeable task last 
week; Scroston was in arrears again, and I had 
to distrain his cow." 

Mr. Sanford looked much distressed, and said: 
"I don't think I should have done that." 

"Neither should I, had it been a personal mat- 
[138] 



"BY PURENESS, BY KINDNESS, BY LOVE" 

ter; but one must consider one's successor. If a 
precedent were once established, it might lead to 
much trouble." And to this there seemed to be 
no reply ! 

After dinner, when the neighboring parson had 
left, Mr. Sanford suggested a "look round." Ruth 
said she had some letters to write, which in Eng- 
land means a nap, so we started off together. In 
my ignorance I supposed a "look round" meant 
a stroll about the place. I soon found it meant 
something more like what we call a "hike." 

There is a wide-spread impression among Ameri- 
cans that England is a small place. Let any one 
go with an English gentleman after a good Sunday 
dinner, for a "look round," and I venture to say 
he will change his mind ! I suppose I am "soft" 
from motoring, but I know I was "all in" when 
we at length reached home. But my host, no 
longer a young man, seemed as fresh as when we 
started. 

He had been much amused by my attempts to 
make up to a farmer, whom we met — also "taking 
a look round." We were crossing a beautiful 
field, in which were some noble oaks whose wide- 
spread branches cast so deep a shadow that it 
looked black, and, by way of making myself agree- 
able, I remarked to him: "I have been telling Mr. 
Sanford how much I admire your trees. You 
must be proud of them." 

[ 139] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

"Aye, they look well to a town dweller, but I 
never notice them except at hay in', and then I 
wish they was anywhere else." 

"But you turn your cattle into this field some- 
times, I suppose, and they must enjoy the shade 
on a hot day." 

"Well, if they stand under one of them on a 
hot day, they'll be in a draft, and get a chill, and 
maybe die." 

This certainly was not encouraging, but I did 
not know enough to stop. Just then some heifers 
came nosing around, and I said: "That's a 
beautiful heifer." 

" Which one?" said the farmer. 

"The white one," said I. 

"I wish you lived about here and I could sell 
her to you. No farmer would buy her." 

"Why not?" said I. 

"We think the white ones is 'saft,'" he replied. 

This, as I say, gave great satisfaction to Mr. 
Sanford, who recounted it at tea with great gusto. 

The servants all went to evening service, but 
the family did not, so I "wrote letters" ! 

Supper was served at nine o'clock, and then all 
the servants came in for prayers — "cook" first, 
and the kitchen-maid last, the butler standing 
aside to close the door, and then solemnly taking 
his place. 

Mr. Sanford read a chapter, and after that a 
[ 140 ] 



"BY PURENESS, BY KINDNESS, BY LOVE" 

beautiful prayer that all might be faithful in their 
duties, kind, and considerate to one another, 
honor the King and love the church. Then Mrs. 
Sanford took her place at the harmonium and 
played several hymns, in which all the servants 
joined — I thought the footman's tenor worthy of 
a church choir, and I suspect he thought so too ! 
and I am sure the housemaid agreed with us 
both ! Altogether the singing was beautiful. 

When the service was over, Mr. Sanford said, 
very simply: "My friends, we have now come to 
the beginning of another week, and I wish to 
thank you all for faithful service. If, at any time 
I have been impatient with any of you, I ask your 
forgiveness. And now I bid you all good night." 

The butler showed them all out, looking at the 
footman, I thought, as much as to say: "Have you 
any complaint to make about the master ? If so, 
kindly address yourself to me!" As for me, I 
confess I had a "lump" in my throat. 

As we drove away next morning, Ruth said: 
"I suppose by this time you have become a 
Tory!" 

"No," I said, "not quite, but if you ever hear 
me say a word against England again say 'San- 
ford,' and I will cry 'Peccavi.' How cheap and 
self-conscious democracy seems after this glimpse 
of English gentle people. Where can their like 
be found?" 

[ 141 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

XXV 

THE COUNTY FAMILIES 

John should be writing this, but he says he is 
tired. I am sure he must be. But there is an- 
other reason, which is that he is cross, poor dear, 
and you, no doubt, will think with good reason 
when you hear what he has been through. 

On leaving Sharrow — the Sanfords' place — we 
drove to the village where still stands the inn 
known as "The Maypole" in "Barnaby Rudge." 
Willit is dead, and I saw nothing as attractive as 
Dolly Varden, nor anything as horrible, I am 
thankful to say, as Hugh. In other words, we 
felt as Thackeray says he felt when he visited 
Tours — it had none of the charm which he had 
expected after reading "Quentin Durward"! 

I urged John to leave the car at the Maypole 
and go to town by train, for I knew it would be 
an exhausting experience to drive through the 
city. But no. He was determined to see if he 
was enough of a chauffeur to accomplish a feat 
which tries the nerve of a professional! So we 
started. 

The road led us to the east side of the city, 

which we entered with the late market-carts. 

No words can describe the congestion. It was 

not only the innumerable wagons of every descrip- 

[142] 



THE COUNTY FAMILIES 



tion which made progress almost impossible, but 
the swarms of creatures which I suppose one 
must call "human," though there was little indi- 
cation of their humanity except the power of 
speech, and when one had heard that, one was 
tempted to wish they were without it ! There are 
veritably two Englands, the one we had just left, 
of green fields and clear brooks and kind hearts 
and noble deeds, and now this sink of iniquity. 
There is nothing in New York to compare with it, 
for, shocking as our tenement-house district is, 
one is comforted by the thought that it is tem- 
porary, that there is an upward trend, and that 
the children of the tenements — almost exclusively 
of foreign-born parentage — are destined to escape. 
But these poor creatures are predestined to "dam- 
nation" before they are born. There is all the 
difference between the East Side of New York 
and the East End of London that there is between 
a stream which has been defiled by the drainage 
of factories, but which will purify itself after it 
has flowed a certain number of miles, and a 
malarial swamp, whose stagnant waters have no 
power of movement and, therefore, no hope of 
cleansing, but will breed sickness from genera- 
tion to generation. This is the reverse of the 
medal inscribed "As it was in the beginning," etc. 
Through this seething mass, then, we made 
our way into White Chapel, the nursery of crime, 
[ 143] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

into Cannon Street, where the great wholesale 
houses distribute the wealth of the empire, and 
where the great dray-horses, almost as large as 
elephants, block the way, past St. Paul's, the 
silent witness to a faith which the life around 
seems to have forgotten — if it ever heard of it ! — 
into Holborn, with its restaurants and shops and 
law-courts, and at last into Leicester Square, with 
its foreign population and its palatial music- 
halls. 

It has taken but a few moments to write this, 
but it took hours to drive it, and I confess when 
it was over I felt like the Irishman in the bottom- 
less Sedan chair: "If it wasn't for the honor of 
the thing, I'd as lief walk." I had the good sense 
not to ask John how he felt. I could tell by look- 
ing at him: his face was white and drawn. 

Before we started from the Maypole, John had 
suggested wiring to the "Holland" for rooms, 
but I induced him to come here — "Garvin's 
Private Hotel" — instead, and now I wish I had 
not! 

The Slocums had advised me to come here 
rather than to one of the great caravansaries, which 
they said are so "Cooksy." They told me that 
they always stopped here, and that I should like 
the class of people one meets here — the county 
families — and also that one received that personal 
attention which formerly made English hotels 
[ 144 ] 



THE COUNTY FAMILIES 



unique, and which Americans and Germans were 
killing. 

Well, I found it good enough. The bedrooms 
may have been dingy — to speak the truth they 
were — but the maid was pleasant and efficient, and 
the dinner, if not exciting, was palatable. But 
John said it "had nothing on a Lexington Avenue 
boarding-house." The truth is, he was tired out, 
and vexed because a telegram, which he had ex- 
pected to find here, had not arrived. 

The next day he went to the manager, and an 
investigation was begun which led to the dis- 
covery that the telegram, which had arrived the 
day before, was in the porters' rack ! It seems 
that Garvin's has doors on two streets, and the 
porter of the door by winch we did not enter had 
received it. When John asked why it had not 
been sent to his room, he was informed, first, that 
no one had told that porter that we were in the 
house, and, second, that telegrams were sent only 
to private sitting-rooms ! I don't know which 
excuse made him the more angry. It was then 
he made his remark about the Lexington Avenue 
boarding-house. Not that he knows anything 
about them, for he has never stayed in one in his 
life, but because it was the first thing he thought 
of. It was an example of what I once heard you 
call "the universe of discourse." But, "you 
bet," I didn't tell him so ! 
[ 145 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

At dinner John looked round the dreary dining- 
room and asked where were the "county fami- 
lies"? 

I also was feeling the strain of the day, and said 
"I hoped to meet them later." 

He replied he hoped he might be out when they 
called. 

By this time I was well-nigh desperate, and sug- 
gested that he go outside and smoke his cigar in 
the street, for I had caught a glimpse of the 
"Smoke Room," which looks out on a mews, 
and is more like a dog-kennel than a room, and I 
did not feel I could stand any more remarks 
about "private hotels"! Enlre nous, I advise 
you never to go to one. I have no doubt if you 
were a "county family," and came up every year 
as your father had done before you, and took the 
"first floor front," with a private sitting-room, 
they would "do you well." But it is no place for 
transients. 

As we had no sitting-room, I went to the dreary 
parlor to read and, if possible, to quiet my mind 
before going to bed. But instead of reading, I 
began to think of John, and the more I thought 
of him the sadder I grew. I know no one who 
bears the great troubles of life more patiently than 
he, but a petty thing, like this telegram, poisons 
him as the black flies poisoned me in the Adiron- 
dacks! They only bite most people, but they 
[ 146 ] 



THE COUNTY FAMILIES 



send me to bed with a temperature ! And the 
worst of it is he suffers such remorse after one of 
these attacks. Why should we laugh at Mrs. 
Gummage? There are people who "feel it more 
than others." However, I reflected that there 
was nothing I could do about it, and so turned to 
my book. 

It was one of those dreary books of Benson's, 
which are conducive to intellectual and moral in- 
digestion — wallowing in imaginary emotions — and 
I did not see how I could read it in the frame of 
mind I was then in. But I did not have to, for I 
was suddenly startled by a voice saying: "If 
you won't think me rude, I should like to know 
where you got that hat ? " 

My first thought was that Garvin's was another 
sort of private institution, but peering into the 
dim corner, I saw a typical "county family," or 
rather the head of one. He was a hale and hearty 
old man, somewhat over sixty, and had the ruddy 
complexion which only English country life can 
give. I saw he was not dangerous, and also that 
he was unquestionably a "gentleman," so I re- 
plied: " I am glad you like it. I got it at Bonwit 
Teller's." 

"I don't know the shop," he said, in a disap- 
pointed tone. 

"Well, that is not surprising, for it is in New 
York." 

[ 147] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

"Really ! And are you an American? I never 
should have," etc. 

"Did you want a hat like this for yourself?" I 
demurely asked. 

" Oh, I say ! Now you are trying to pull my leg." 

I looked at the solid limb in question, and as- 
sured him I had no such purpose. 

"No, I didn't want it for myself. The truth 
is, I saw you at dinner — by the way, why do they 
call that leather they served to-night 'mutton'? 
I wonder if they have ever tasted mutton ? Awful 
food they give one at these hotels nowadays! 
Poison, I call it ! I always stop at my club when 
I come up to town, but this time I have my wife 
and daughter with me. Couldn't take them to 
the club, of course, so came here. Family been 
coming here forever, I should say; came when the 
father of this man had it. This man married the 
French maid, and she has put on the table a lot of 
kickshaws, and calls them a 'menu.' Silly stuff. 
There was no such nonsense in the father's time. 
One just called the waiter and said, 'What's the 
joint ? ' and that was all there was to it. But, as 
I was saying, I saw you at dinner, and said to my 
daughter: 'That's a deuced pretty -looking girl 
over there, and I wish you had a hat like her's. ' 
You don't mind my telling you this? Wouldn't 
do for a young man, but an old man has his privi- 
leges." 

[ 148 ] 



THE COUNTY FAMILIES 



I assured him I was flattered, and the simple- 
hearted old squire replied: "Not at all. The 
simple truth." 

I was rather confused at this and, not quite 
thinking what I was saying, asked what his 
daughter said. 

"'Why,' she said, 'if you admire the lady's 
hat, you had better ask her where she got it.' 
And, by George, I said I would, never dreaming, 
you understand, that I should really ever speak 
to you. 

"You see, they have gone to the play, but as I 
have taken a cold, something I never have at 
home, I thought I would stop in and write some 
letters. But the fire in my sitting-room (though 
it is August, the evenings are chill) smokes so I 
came in here, and no sooner got settled down than 
I heard some one come in and, looking round, saw 
it was you. Matilda will be surprised when she 
learns that I have asked about the hat." And ho 
chuckled to himself at the thought. 

I turned again to my book but the old man was 
not done with me. "So you are an American. 
Is it true that Americans have baths in their 
drawing-rooms ? " 

" I have never seen one there, but as they have 
them generally about the house, I should not be 
surprised." 

"Oh, you must not take me too seriously," he 
[ 149 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

said in a sorrowful tone; " I was only ragging you 
a bit!" 

I laughed, not, I fear, with, but at, the simple 
old soul. 

"I have never understood this craze for bath- 
rooms myself," he continued; "I think it far 
more comfortable to have the maid bring the tub 
into the room at the same time she draws the 
curtains and lights the fire, for then one takes 
one's bath in comfort, rather than go into a cold 
closet. Nor do I like to lie down in a tub. It 
makes me feel as if I were ill — at Harrowgate or 
some such place, don't you know. More than 
that, I suspect there is a lot of talk about bathing 
that does not amount to much. There is a 
daughter of one of my tenants who went as 
housemaid to one of the great hotels in Chicago 
— the Blackamoor, I think it is called. She came 
home to visit her mother a year ago, and I asked 
her if it were true that many rooms had private 
baths. She said that every room in the place 
had its own bathroom, and that the very bag- 
men, if you please, would swagger in and say, 
'Room with bath,' but that days would go by 
without their being used ! Just ordered them to 
put on side. She is a very shrewd girl, and she 
explained to me why it was that Americans have 
so many bathrooms. She said the ladies insisted 
upon it because they did not wish to be seen 
[ 150 ] 



THE BOAT-RACE 



going along the passages in the flannel gowns they 
all wear. She said if they had handsome 
bath-robes, such as English ladies wear, they 
would not be ashamed to be seen going to the 
bath." 

Don't you think that girl earned a good tip? 
But perhaps you, like my garrulous old friend, 
will think I am trying to "pull your leg," but I 
give you my word it is all true. I am not sure 
whether you will say "Aren't they the limit?" 
or "Can you beat it?" I said both ! 

John came in in a penitent mood, as I knew he 
would, and brought me a superb bunch of roses — 
a sort of "sin-offering." What should I have 
done had I married a saint ! 



XXVI 

THE BOAT-RACE 

I think Ruth has written you about our stay 
in London, so I will say nothing about it except 
to advise you to avoid "private hotels." Ruth 
has so many fine qualities that there must be 
some flaws or she would not be long with us! 
One of them is this: If a person of whom she is 
fond advised her to go to — well, I won't say it! 
I 151 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

no argument would have any effect upon her. She 
would wish to start at once ! Well, that is over 
for the time, so let us forget it. 

By good chance we met the Ingrams from Boston 
at the hotel, and they told us, what any porter at 
a real hotel would have known, that the race 
between Harvard and Cambridge was to take 
place that day, so we started early in the car to 
get a good place on the river-bank. We drew up 
near Mortlake, where there is a bend in the river, 
and which, I was told, was the best place because 
the leading boat at that spot has seldom, if ever, 
been passed. 

It was one of those perfect days which redeems 
the English climate, and shows that the poets 
must have had some experience of heavenly 
weather, and not, as the cynics on our side of the 
water have suggested, imagined the weather 
which they describe I The river was a sight not 
soon to be forgotten. There were hundreds of 
punts on the river and more pretty girls and stal- 
wart young men than could be assembled in any 
other country in the world, I suppose. All of 
those were not on their way to the boat-race, 
however, but were the usual Saturday crowd "out 
for a good time." We saw scores of punts tied 
up to the trees on the river-bank, in which the 
girls were busy making tea, and the boys, clad in 
white flannels, were smoking their brierwoods. I 
[ 152] 



THE BOAT-RACE 



suppose there was the usual amount of sentiment 
but it was not in evidence. Indeed, both girls 
and boys seemed keen for tea ! 

The right bank of the river was lined with 
motors, while the path through the meadows on 
the opposite side was crowded with those who had 
come from town on buses and trams, and were 
now running along the bank, seeking the best 
places from which to view the struggle. But how 
a race could be rowed on that river was more than 
I could guess. One could not have moved a skiff 
through the mass of boats which crowded it from 
bank to bank. Yet nothing was done to clear 
the course. I feared a foul. But just before the 
time for starting, a little motor-boat shot out from 
the bank, and without any blowing of whistles or 
shouting or confusion of any sort, but apparently 
in answer to the simple request of the official 
standing in the bow of the launch, boats and punts 
disappeared, as if by magic, and in a twinkling 
the course was clear! I thought with shame of 
what would be seen at home in like conditions — 
the noise and bullying, on the one hand, and the 
overflowing of the course as soon as the backs of 
the police were turned ! But this was a striking 
exhibition at once of the law-abiding spirit of the 
English and the equal respect of individual rights. 
For, as I have said, the liberty of the individual 
was respected up to the last moment, and then 
[153] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

the crowd willingly conceded the rights of the 
community. 

Half New York seemed to be there, and one 
heard the shrill voices of our charming com- 
patriots as the word was passed along: "They 
are off!" 

The betting was in favor of the English crew, 
and when the boats appeared around the bend 
of the river, it was easy to see why it should 
have been. 

Harvard had the outside — slightly longer — 
course, but even so, it was evident that they were 
outclassed. Better form I never saw than Har- 
vard showed. The men moved like a machine. 
There was no splashing and no sound was heard 
as the boat swept by. Not so Cambridge: the 
water was churned as if with a screw, and there 
was much shouting. It may have been only the 
voice of the coxswain, but I thought I distinguished 
several voices, but the boat moved, or, rather, it 
seemed to leap, after each stroke, while the Har- 
vard shell seemed to settle and wait after each 
stroke for the next. Just as they passed us Har- 
vard spurted, and a gallant effort it was, but too 
late, and Cambridge shot under the Mortlake 
bridge, nearly two lengths ahead. Then I heard 
what I had never heard before — and what I sup- 
pose cannot be heard out of England — the roar of 
a great multitude. Our college yells seemed thin 
[ 154] 



THE BOAT-RACE 



in comparison — the silence settled down, and the 
river was filled again with the little boats, which 
had scuttled to the banks to let the racers go by. 

We went on our way wondering why it was that 
no amateur American crew had ever beaten an 
English one in a four-mile race. When the car 
was blocked by a mass of motors a little distance 
above the bridge, a punt floated slowly by, and 
a nice-looking lad called out to me: "Which 
won?" It never occurred to me that he, less 
than a mile from the finish, did not know the re- 
sult, when crowds were at that moment reading 
the bulletins in Times Square and men were dis- 
cussing it in the clubs in Hong Kong. 

So, thinking he was "pulling my leg," I an- 
swered "Harvard." 

"Hard luck," was all he said, as his punt slipped 
quickly by. 

I was therefore considerably startled when a 
man in the car next ours remarked, in an in- 
dignant tone: 

"You had no right to say that. You know it is 
not true!" 

"Why," I replied, "so did he." 

"Not at all, or he would not have asked." 

"Well, I am sorry; I supposed he was poking 
fun at me." 

But this only made matters worse. For he 
now shouted: 

[155] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

"You had no right to assume that. The lad 
was evidently a gentleman and would not have 
been guilty of such an unsportsmanlike thing." 

By this time I felt as if I had poisoned the 
favorite for the Derby, and in desperation said: 

"Well, after all, no great harm was done." 

"That is more than you know," replied this 
uncompromising individual; "he may have had 
something on it!" 

Now I felt as if I had picked the lad's pocket, 
and did what any pickpocket would do, escaped 
as soon as possible ! 

We drove to Maidenhead for tea and had the 
good luck to find there the Siegels. I don't think 
you know them. He is one of the so-called 
"Pittsburgh crowd" — inventor of a patent car- 
seat or something of the sort — and has made a 
mint of money. I have been told that in Pitts- 
burgh he is called "Chilled Steel" ! Well, he is 
anything but that when one meets him away from 
business. He overflows with kindness and fun. 

After cordial greetings I told him of my experi- 
ence on the towing-path, and he was greatly 
amused. 

"But," he said, with mock solemnity, "you 
ought to have known better than to monkey with 
sport in England. It is their religion. It was 
like crying 'To Hell with the Pope' on St. Pat- 
rick's Day." 

[156] 



THE BOAT-RACE 



I said it was too bad Harvard was beaten. 

"What did you expect?" he asked, and then: 
"Did you have much on it?" 

"Nothing but interest," I replied. 

"That's where you are ahead of me," he said. 
"I had some capital on it!" 

"Did you expect Harvard to win?" 

"Who, I? Not in a thousand years; but just 
to cheer the boys up a bit I put a few pounds on 
them. Well, it's all gone, but I guess I'll charge 
it up to the 'Charity Fund,' and so have a few 
coppers left for a cigar after dinner." 

"No," he said, speaking seriously for a moment, 
"I went down to the Harvard quarters yesterday 
to see Tom Burch's son, who is in the crew, and, 
say, I hadn't been there five minutes when all 
the 'pep' began to ooze out of me. Those boys 
have been training for three weeks in this muggy 
climate, and it has sapped 'em. I don't say they 
could have won, anyway, for I understand that 
that Cambridge bunch is a hard proposition — one 
of the best crews they have turned out in years — 
but they might just as well have given our boys 
a dose of bromide every morning before breakfast 
as to train them in the Thames valley. If I had 
the handling of a crew over here, I'd put them on 
the river the day before the race, so as to learn 
their way through this winding creek they call 
a river, and the next dav I'd call the race, while 
[157] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

those boys still had some U. S. ozone in them. 
Well, it's all in the family," he continued, "and 
it will serve as a set-off to the cup races and the 
polo games, and as long as it was not a German 
crew that won, I don't much care." I saw by 
the twitching of his lips that there was a story 
coming, and was not disappointed. But it is 
too long for this letter, and so will have to be 
given in my next. 



XXVII 

THE CUSTOM-HOUSE 

"Mr. Siegel," I said, when tea was finished 
and we had lighted his cigars, "I thought you 
were 'German.'" 

"You did, hey? Well, I'm German the same 
way you are English! My grandfather was a 
real German, but they ran him out in '48, and he 
went over with Schurz and the rest of that band, 
and if you can find better Americans than their 
descendants, I do not know where they are. The 
German of to-day is another creature, and I want 
nothing to do with him. Those people are the 
limit; 'verboten" 1 this and 'verboten' that, till a 
man doesn't dare do anything without asking 
the policeman if he may. Women have to stand 
in the gutter till an officer goes by. Why, when 
[158] 



THE CUSTOM-HOUSE 



we were in Berlin one of them would have run 
Maria through with his sword if I hadn't told 
him I was a friend of the Kaiser." 

"Jim," exclaimed Mrs. Siegel, "how you do 
talk ! You know he never touched me, and you 
never spoke to the Kaiser!" 

"Well, he didn't know it! And moreover, as 
I am a friend of Carnegie — now that he has gone 
out of business — and had on a good suit of clothes, 
and so looked as if I could lend money to his 
boss, he believed it was true, and so let you live. 
Oh, I can manage the army all right, it is the 
custom-house officer who 'gets my goat.' I un- 
derstand how to deal with the American breed, 
but I am helpless with those fellows. However, I 
have got things fixed now, so that if we ever have 
to go back there, it will not be as bad as it was 
at Frankfort." 

"What happened at Frankfort?" I asked. 

"Well, I'll tell you. My doctor at home 
wanted to go to Canada for the fishing, and fear- 
ing a competitor would get his business away 
from him, told me to go to Carlsbad and get a 
good soak. When I had finished with the prune 
pure, the veal and the water, I started for Frank- 
fort to meet Maria, who had been at St. Moritz. 
She had the usual twenty-one trunks, and I 
asked for the keys and began to open them — 
getting one key in five right, accusing the French 
[ 159] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

maid of having lost some of them, and getting the 
usual French change in reply. 

"Well, sir, if a man is looking for a sweat he 
has no need to go to Carlsbad, let him try to open 
his wife's trunks while a German pig in uniform 
looks on ! When you tell him you can't find one 
key, but it is the one for the soiled-clothes bag, 
and he says that is the one he most wants to see, 
you are 'up against it.' 

" I should have had a fit in a few minutes, I be- 
lieve, if I had not caught sight of Charlie Wilson 
at the other end of the shed, trying to get his 
wife's trunks open. But he was not showing the 
same patience and dignity as I was. His lan- 
guage was something awful. He first told the 
maid he had given her the key to the hat-box, 
and she said he hadn't. Then he said he had 
given it to his wife, and she said he hadn't, so I 
knew he must be badly rattled. When a man 
begins to change his lies it's a sure sign he has 
lost his nerve. Mrs. Wilson began to cry, and 
her pig laughed. So just to cheer them up a 
bit I called out: 'Hello, Charlie, I thought you 
were down at your place on Long Island.' Then 
I thought Charlie was going to cry ! He wiped the 
sweat off his face and, coming over to me, said: 

"Jim, this is something fierce! I have a per- 
fectly good home where we can have chowder 
three times a day, if we want it, and a swim in the 
[ 160] 



THE CUSTOM-HOUSE 



surf every evening, and things to drink that are 
not made out of hair-oil, and I left it all and came 

over here because that doctor told me to go 

to Homberg ! ' 

"Well, we finally got all the trunks open, and 
as they found nothing they could fine me for, we 
were allowed to drive to the hotel. Mrs. Wilson 
was still dabbling her eyes with a bit of lace that 
one tear would have made a sop, and Maria said 
she was worn out, and was going to bed, and 
Charlie said he must have a drink, and so I told 
his wife I would go with him, and see that he did 
not take two ! 

"When this had been done I went to my room, 
took off my coat and collar, and sat down to 
wrestle with the problem of trunks. After a while 
it came to me, and I rang for the porter. He 
came, in his field-marshal's uniform, and said, 
'Bitter?' and I said, 'Very bitter,' and then 
asked him if he could speak the English language ? 
He said he could speak all languages. I guess 
that was right, but it would have been better if 
he had spoken one at a time ! However, he finally 
got it into his head that I wanted a locksmith, 
and said he thought he could get one that evening 
or the next morning. 

"I said: 'My friend, you listen to me: every 
minute you delay takes off a mark from what is 
coming to you when I leave, so you can calculate 
[ 161 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

how much will be owing me if you don't get a 
move on.' 

"Well, that got under his skin, and before long 
he returned with a man in a green apron, who, he 
said, was a locksmith. 

"I explained to the porter that I wanted the 
locks taken off every trunk, and twenty-one new 
locks put on, which one key would fit. It took 
him some time to understand that I did not want 
twenty-one keys and one lock, but when he did, 
he translated it into one of his five branches of 
languages. The man in the green apron began 
to run around in circles and said there were not 
twenty- one locks alike in Frankfort. I asked 
where they could be gotten, and Green Apron 
said only at the factory. 

"Well, where was that? 

"In Munich or near there. If he wrote he 
might be able to get them in a week. 

"I asked if his health did not permit him to 
travel. 

"When he got that, he was instructed to take 
the first train to Munich and get those locks, 
bring them back and have them on the trunks by 
noon the next day. It was Maria's birthday, 
and I wanted to give her a surprise. 

"Well, sir, it was done, and now life is easy. 
The only drawback was that there were no more 
German custom-houses for us to pass through, 
f 162 1 



THE CUSTOM-HOUSE 



and so no more officers who wanted to see how 
many pieces we had in the wash, for we shipped 
our baggage 'in bond' and when we reached 
England the officer said: 'If you will open that 
one, it will be all that I shall require,' and when 
I offered him what would be expected at home, 
he declined it ! However, I shall have some fun 
at home when we get on the dock where the offi- 
cers loaf while distracted oassengers hunt for 
keys. 

"The porter got his tip, but whether it was not 
as much as he had expected, or whether he 
thought I had not shown proper respect for the 
field-marshal's uniform, or for some other reason, 
he did not seem grateful and said something 
about tags. I told him I didn't need any, as I 
had had mine printed before we left home. 

"Maria says that I did not understand, that 
the Germans are expecting a sort of Day of 
Judgment, and that Tag means Day. Well, if 
it comes while I'm still here, I'm willing to take 
what's coming to me if sentence can be suspended 
till I see some of those army and custom-house 
officers get theirs. I worked in the rolling-mills, 
when I was young, and I guess I can stand it 
better than some!" 

"Jim," said Mrs. Siegel, "you ought to be 
ashamed of yourself, talking that way before Mr. 
Dobson." 

[ 163 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

"I guess that's right, mother, but Dobson 
dresses and talks and acts so like a man that I 
keep forgetting that he is a preacher." 

As we drove away toward Windsor I said to 
Ruth: "Is he not typical of hundreds we know, 
and, in spite of their roughness, what a power 
they are in the land !" 

But Ruth had not found him so amusing as I 
did. She said that she found that continuous 
exaggeration, which is supposed to be the essence 
of American humor, rather tiring, and added : 

"I do not deny his good spirit and kindliness, 
but underneath there seems to be a kind of hard- 
ness in men of his sort that frightens me. Your 
neighbor of this afternoon who rebuked you, was 
unquestionably lacking in a sense of humor — or 
at any rate in the kind we are used to — but he 
was a finer type than this man, and I cannot 
help feeling that the man who has an awful sense 
of truth is a greater national asset than the man 
we have just left." 

When Ruth takes that tone I do not dare to 
answer, but I may say to you that I do not think 
she does these men justice. If "Der Tag" ever 
comes — and in my opinion it will not come — I 
think all this talk is just fluff — still, if it should 
come, I believe these reckless talkers, but shrewd 
— well, perhaps also hard — men will give to the 
nation all the shrewdness and all the energy 
[ 164 ] 



THE "ROB" ROOM 



which went into the upbuilding of their business, 
and yet will keep on laughing at the world, and 
at themselves, too, all the time ! 



XXVIII 

THE "ROB" ROOM 

I asked John if he was writing to you and he 
grinned and said perhaps I had better write. 
The fact is, he has not been behaving very well, 
and is, I suspect, rather ashamed of himself — at 
least, I hope he is ! 

We came to Windsor and put up at what 
John insisted upon calling the "Purple Sow," 
though it is really the "White Heifer." 

The next morning we went to St. George's 
Chapel, which seemed to me the most beautiful 
church I had ever seen, and where the music 
would have filled your heart with joy. By some 
ill chance, it was one of the days when they sing 
the Athanasian Creed, and, to my horror, John 
refused to stand up! He said it was "blas- 
phemous," and I felt like asking, like the man at 
Barchester: "If you once begin, where will you 
end?" But thought it best to let him alone. 

The same afternoon we were shown over the 
castle with a horde of sightseers. John was per- 
[165] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

fectly quiet until we came to the room in which 
the trophies are displayed. As we were standing 
before one of the glass cases in which are splen- 
did swords and cups of gold and jewels from India 
and China, and "the uttermost parts of the sea" 
— a record of the least admirable page in English 
history — John, I could see by the expression of 
his face, was thinking. I could only hope he 
would not "start" anything! But he is like 
Benny Joyce, who, when he was asked in Sunday 
School if he had any faults, replied that he thought 
he could say he was without any, except when his 
brother Tony provoked him ! 

Well, John's "brother Tony" was near at 
hand, in the person of the typical English shop- 
keeper. 

Turning to John, he said, in a tone half-ashamed 
and half-exultant: 

"I say, we have collared a lot of things, have 
we not?" 

"Yes," replied John, "that is why it is called 
the 'Rob' room!" 

I must say, while I wished he had said nothing, 
I do think this was awfully quick ! 

The man looked puzzled for a moment, and then 
replied: "I suppose you mean the Robe Room." 
But as he received no answer he evidently thought 
it over, and then burst out with: 

"Oh, I say! That's awfully good. I see, 
[ 166] 



THE "ROB" ROOM 



' Rob ' room ! Would you mind if I told that to 
my wife?" 

John grimly remarked that he would be de- 
lighted. So he trotted off to the other side of 
the room and began talking with evident glee to 
a woman with a most uncompromising face. 
Apparently her reaction was not what he had 
expected, and his countenance fell. He returned 
to John, and in a most truculent tone, remarked: 

"You are an American, aren't you?" 

To which John, in an equally aggressive tone 
answered: "I thank God I am." 

" I thought so," he replied. "And, if you don't 
mind my saying so, my wife thinks, and I quite 
agree with her, that your remark was a most 
objectionable one." 

Did you ever hear of anything more absurd? 
I am glad to say John had the good sense not to 
make a scene. So we withdrew — but not with 
the honors of war ! Do you wonder he does not 
feel like writing to you ? 

We had intended going west from here and re- 
suming our interrupted journey, but a letter from 
Lady Groves, who is a friend of Maud's, asking 
us to spend the night with them at their place, 
near Reading, delayed us again. 

We did not arrive this time for tea as there was 
something the matter with the car — ignition 
trouble, I believe — but fortunately it was put 
[167] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

right in time for us to reach our destination for 
dinner. 

How can one express the charm of a welcome 
to an English house? These people, who seem 
so "standoffish," when one does not know them, 
expand into the most winning cordiality when 
they receive one into their own homes. So that 
one feels that an "Englishman's house is not 
alone his castle, but also a hospice!" 

The bedroom, to which I was shown, called the 
"Bird" room, because of the pattern of the paper 
and the chintz, was filled with real "Sheriton," 
which had never even heard of Grand Rapids! 
There was a dressing-room for John, equally at- 
tractive, but more "manly." 

John, as usual, declined to give up his keys to 
the footman, and threw his things around every- 
where, in what looked like hopeless confusion, 
but in a way which, as he said, enables him to 
"find things." 

There were but two guests besides ourselves at 
dinner, a Mr. and Miss Buckthorne. Sir William 
took me in and Mr. Buckthorne Lady Groves, so 
Miss Buckthorne fell to John. 

It seems the Buckthornes had one of the finest 
private collections of "Sir Joshua's" in England, 
but they are "land-poor" and so have been obliged 
to sell most of them. I thought it might interest 
Miss Buckthorne to hear about one of them, 
[ 168] 



THE "HOB" ROOM 



which Mr. Frazer bought, and began to explain 
how it was hung in his new gallery. 

Perhaps it was not tactful to speak of it at all, 
at any rate she was not in the least interested, 
and from her manner I thought John was not 
likely to have a good time. 

Her brother, on the other hand, was a most 
interesting person, so much so that I listened so 
intently to his conversation that I forgot all about 
John and his partner. When, however, I did look 
at him, I found that there was an ominous silence 
on his side of the table. When we went up- 
stairs I inquired how he had enjoyed himself. 
He was delighted with his host and hostess, and 
said that he found Mr. Buckthorne one of the 
best-informed men he had ever talked with, but 
rudely remarked that "she," meaning, I gathered, 
Miss Buckthorne, "was the limit." 

I said: "I noticed you did not have much to 
say to one another." 

"I had plenty to say to her," he growled, "but 
after the first course she never spoke to me." 

"Oh, John," I said, "tell me just what hap- 
pened." 

"Well," he said, looking rather sheepish, "we 
did not hit it off." 

"I hope you did not criticise England?" 

" Certainly not," he indignantly replied. "Well, 
I will tell you just what happened. As we were 
[ 169 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

going into the dining-room she said to me, in that 
wooden voice of hers: 'How do you manage in 
America, about precedence, having no aristoc- 
racy ? ' 

"I said, 'We are greatly troubled about it, and 
I fear will never find a solution of the problem 
until we become again an English colony.'" 

"John," I cried, "how could you?" 

"Well, she looked so melancholy that I thought 
I would jolly her up a bit." 

"Yes," I retorted, "but haven't you been here 
long enough to learn that what you call 'jollying' 
the English call ' ragging,' and leave it to school- 
boys, and do not indulge in it at dinner-parties?" 

"Well, I learned to-night," he replied. Seem- 
ingly that was the end of the matter, but I knew 
better, and insisted upon knowing all, so he con- 
tinued: "She asked what we were doing in the 
meantime, and I said: 'Oh, we are just experi- 
menting.' 

" ' How do you mean " experimenting," ' she said. 

"Well, at one house the butler, when he an- 
nounced dinner, said : ' The oldest lady present will 
please go in first.' Of course, no one would move; 
so that night we had no dinner. The next dinner 
we went to, he said: 'This evening it is requested 
that the most beautiful lady present will lead the 
way.' And as they all rushed together, several 
people were injured, and again the dinner had to 
I 170] 



VESTED INTERESTS 



be given up. And, when I left, I found that 
every one was standing as near the door as pos- 
sible, so as to slip in first and get the best seat at 
table." 

She gasped, and exclaimed, "How extraor- 
dinary!" and never spoke another word during 
the dinner. I do not know now whether she is 
thinking it over, or whether she suspects that I 
was engaged in that interesting pastime of "pull- 
ing her leg," though from the glimpse I caught — 
But I spare you ! 



XXIX 

VESTED INTERESTS 

I think Ruth has written you some nonsense 
about me to which I hope you will pay no atten- 
tion. She is somewhat of a romancer. I do not 
mean that the bare facts are not as she states 
them, but I have your own high authority for 
the dictum that "A fact is often a most mislead- 
ing thing" ! 

At any rate, I know she could not have told 
you about the interesting conversation we men 
had over our cigars after dinner, last night. 
After the ladies withdrew Sir William asked me 
many questions about our church. He wished 
particularly to learn how "The Anglican Church 
[ 171] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

in the States" got on without the supervision of 
the state. I explained how rectors were "called," 
and bishops elected, and deputies to the General 
Convention chosen, etc. He was greatly inter- 
ested, and said that unless something was done 
to give the laity a voice in the management of the 
parish, he believed the days of the Church of 
England were numbered. I asked him why he 
felt so despondent, and he said: 

"Take the case of this parish: the rector is an 
uncouth creature who was given the living by a 
man to whom his father was tutor, and who prob- 
ably took orders with this in view, for he is far 
more interested in his glebe than in the cure of 
souls. He will not listen to any suggestions, but 
goes his own way. All the money goes into his 
hands and there is no accounting to any one. I do 
not suggest that he is dishonest, but I do say that 
a man who had the right feeling would recognize 
that the people should know the amounts given, 
and the purposes for which they are used." 
I said: "Surely there is a churchwarden?" 
"True, but he is the schoolmaster, appointed 
by the rector and dependent upon him. The ser- 
vice is conducted in a most slovenly manner, and 
the music is quite painful. I offered to pay for a 
proper choirmaster, but he said that was an in- 
sult to his wife's sister, who plays the organ. The 
result of his bad manners and dictatorial spirit is 
[ 172] 



VESTED INTERESTS 



that the congregation has dwindled to a mere 
handful, and they are mostly children whom the 
schoolmaster compels to come. The fact is that 
dissent is increasing at an alarming rate, and I 
think that soon there will be nothing left but the 
parson and the glebe!" 

"Can the bishop do nothing?" I asked. 

"Apparently not. The bishop says that if a 
responsible person will prefer charges he will take 
the matter up, but that ' a man cannot be deprived 
of his living because he happens to be unpopular.' 
Of course, if the Church of England exists to pro- 
vide 'livings,' there is nothing more to be said. 
But if its purpose is to minister to the people, a 
way must be found to accomplish that. But I 
fear the attempt will prove fatal to the Establish- 
ment." 

Of course, you and I should not feel that this 
would be fatal to the church, but what these men 
fear is that if the impartial hand of the state is 
withdrawn, the church will become a sect, or 
rather as many sects as there are now parties. 
And if disestablishment comes before the laity 
have gained their rights, we can guess what the 
"ecclesiastic" clerical, and especially the laymen 
— whom Thomas Browne once referred to as 
"ecclesiastical eunuchs" ! — will make of it. 

Mr. Buckthorne, who had kept silent while we 
were talking, now said: "This is a hard case, but 
[ 173] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

it is nothing to what our parish has to endure." 
I said, "What is your trouble? What has your 
parson done?" 

"You might better ask what has he not done ! 
In the first place, there is a very ugly story about 
a farmer's daughter — the rights of which I neither 
know nor wish to know — but as a result none of 
the farmers will have anything to say to him. 
In the second place, he sits in the bar of the 
public house every Saturday night till closing 
time, drinking with the village topers, and con- 
sequently the respectable tradesmen will not 
come into the church. And finally it is reported — 
I do not say it is true, for I should not like to 
bring such a charge against any man without 
positive proof — but I do know it is commonly 
believed that he has shot partridges sitting! and, 
of course, after that, no gentleman will have any- 
thing to do with him." 

"I should hope not," cried Sir William in- 
dignantly. 

No, I did not laugh at this moral anticlimax. I 
again asked if the bishop could do nothing. 

"Oh, the bishop has been appealed to, and, 
being a good man himself and a gentleman, is, 
of course, greatly distressed. I was one of those 
who went to see him, but all he could say was: 
'Dear me, this is very sad. But it is to be re- 
membered that the man is a rector and has a 
[ 174] 



VESTED INTERESTS 



vested interest in the living. Of course, if re- 
sponsible people can be found to substantiate 
these charges, undoubtedly he could be brought 
to trial, but it must not be forgotten that the law 
against libel is very stringent, and I should not 
care to move unless I could be assured that a ver- 
dict in my favor was a little more than probable.' 
And so the matter was dropped." 

"What shall we say to these things?" Well, 
the obvious thing is that it is not royalty, as the 
Fourth of July orators used to declaim, nor the 
House of Lords, as the Hyde Park speakers are 
asserting, nor the palaces of the bishops, as some 
of our non-conformist friends believe; it is the 
"vested interests," which the new democracy 
must blast out of church and state before the people 
can determine their own destiny. 

I suspect, if we were face to face, you with your 
sceptical spirit would suggest that there is some- 
thing else to be said, which is that this quiet and 
intelligent-looking Mr. Buckthorne may have 
been feeding me on the same diet I served to his 
sister. At any rate, if not about the lesser im- 
morality of his parson, at least about his heinous 
crime of shooting partridges, sitting. 

I do not deny that this is possible, and indeed, 

much as I should wish to believe such a story, I 

am almost in hopes it is not true, for, if you will 

read to the end of this long story — which must, 

[ 175 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

however, be left to ray next — you will see why I 
have to-day a fellow feeling for the wretch, which 
last night I should have thought impossible ! 



XXX 

"THE AULD UN'" 

We had intended to take our departure the 
next morning, but Sir William was so insistent 
that we should stay at least a part of the day 
that we decided to wait until the afternoon. 
This gave great pleasure to Ruth, who wished to 
see the garden — she is still dreaming of that 
country parsonage where she will have a garden 
of her own ! 

As there was nothing in particular for me to do 
our host suggested that I might take a gun and 
go out with him to "pick up a few rabbits." I 
told him the only ones I was likely to pick up 
would be those shot by some one else, for I had 
not handled a gun since I was in college. But, 
evidently, he felt about that as you would feel if 
a brother parson were to say that he was so rusty 
in his Greek that he could not read his New Testa- 
ment. It would not seem credible ! 

You must know that nothing can be done in 
England without "dressing for the part." Sir 
[176] 



"THE AULD UN'" 



William was already arrayed for the battue, but 
I had to get out some knickerbockers, which took 
time because the troublesome footman had put 
them away ! However they were found at last, 
and they with my Norfolk jacket made me pre- 
sentable, so we started with the keeper, who car- 
ried over his shoulder a sack in which were evi- 
dently live creatures of some sort, for the bag was 
constantly agitated. I hoped they might be 
rabbits for me to "pick up," but they proved to 
be ferrets. 

When we reached the warrens these crawling 
creatures — which look like diminutive dachshunds 
— were shaken out of the bag and promptly melted 
into the earth. Soon there was heard a faint 
squealing, and the keeper announced that one of 
the young ferrets was killing a rabbit and would 
be of no further use to us. But the others had a 
deeper sense of duty, or were better sportsmen — 
which seems to mean the same thing — for soon 
the rabbits began to pop up all over the place. 
Sir William had potted two before I could get my 
gun to my shoulder. The keeper called my at- 
tention to the fact that it was necessary to "look 
lively," but that is a thing at which I have never 
been good. 

However, I determined that I would do better 
the next time the rabbits appeared. This I did, 
for a moment later I saw a little bunch of fluff, 
[ 177] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

no bigger than your fist, roll over and then lie 
still. One would have thought I had killed a 
bull moose, so generous was the applause of the 
keeper and Sir William. I felt like Mr. Winkle — 
or was it Mr. Tupman — when he shut his eyes 
and brought down the bird ! I shot a number of 
times more but without success, and began to 
think I really must look more lively still. And I 
did ! There were a few moments when no more 
rabbits appeared, though, from time to time, one 
of those slimy ferrets would come to the surface, 
stretch its long neck and look around to see if any- 
thing of interest appeared, and then silently melt 
again into the earth. Suddenly a head appeared 
from a hole some distance away. Sir William did 
not move — evidently had not seen it, so, think- 
ing this was my chance I fired, and the creature 
rolled over, kicked once or twice, and then lay 
still. 

I looked for applause, but as you may have 
noticed the audience does not always respond at 
the moment one expects ! 

There was a moment of silence, and then Sir 
William exclaimed: "Good Lord! You've shot 
the ferret!" 

The keeper groaned as if he had lost his only 
child, and said, with tears in his voice: "It was 
the auld un\" 

There was nothing to be said, and the keeper 
[ 178] 



THE AULD UN'" 



sadly buried his favorite, and I felt as if I were 
one of that party who had buried Sir John Moore : 

" Not a drum was heard. 
Slowly and sadly we laid him down! " 

We walked away without a word. There came, 
however, to my mind a story Sir William had 
told me as we left the house in the morning, of 
an American who came over to one of the great 
"Shoots" in Yorkshire and asked his host as 
they started out the first morning, "How much 
he ought to give the keeper?" and he replied: 
" It depends upon where you hit him." I laughed 
then, but I was not laughing now! For I was 
wondering what sum would make good the loss 
of an"AuldUn'." 

I gave the keeper what I could afford — indeed 
more — but I am not sure he will ever be the 
same man again! I know one thing. I could 
have bought a fat red deer for what that little 
handful of fluff cost me ! 

As we started to leave the little clump of pines 
which had been the scene of the murder, the 
keeper threw the sack on the ground and said 
to the boy who had accompanied us — to bring 
home the rabbits, I suppose — "You can bring 
'em home, Jock." 

He evidently had not the heart to gather up 
the remaining ferrets, and so strode away after 
[ 179] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

Sir William. The boy looked up at me with a 
grin and held up the index finger of his right 
hand, on which there was the scar of a bite. I 
gathered that he and the "Auld Un'" had not 
been the best of friends, and that there was one of 
the party who did not mourn its untimely death ! 

I hurried after the others, and when I caught 
up with them, broke my gun to eject the lethal 
cartridge and the one that had not been fired, 
but my host said: "Oh, I wouldn't do that; we 
might meet a grouse on the way back. Jenkins," 
he said, turning to the keeper, "have you seen 
any hereabouts?" 

"There was a brace, Sir William, in the stubble- 
field this morning. They may be around now, 
we might take a look." 

"I think, then," said Sir William, "we will cut 
through the Green Lane, and see what there is 
in that field." 

We had hardly entered the lane when a bird 
rose from behind a bush with a whirr that startled 
me, but I fired almost without taking aim, and 
brought it down. There was an awful silence, 
and then Sir William said, in a strained voice: 
"I hardly know what we had better do. Still, 
as it is done, Jenkins, you had better send it up 
to the Hall." 

"Excuse me, Sir William," said Jenkins, "but 
there would be a lot of talk in the servants' hall, 
[ 180 ] 



"THE AULD UN'" 



and I think it would be better if I took it home 
with me and burned the feathers, and no one but 
ourselves need be any the wiser. Thank God, 
the boy is back there in the wood ! And I don't 
suppose the gentleman will talk." 

After a long pause my host replied, with a sigh, 
that he supposed that would be best. 

Perhaps you will be asking, what was the 
trouble ? I knew no more than you ! At first 
I thought I must have killed the twin brother of 
the "Auld Un'" but reflected that ferrets do not 
fly. It could not have been one of the keeper's 
children as I feared when I caught a glimpse of 
his face, for children do not have feathers to burn ! 
At last, I said, rather testily, I fear: "Would you 
mind telling what is the trouble?" 

Sir William looked at me, more in sorrow than 
in anger, and solemnly replied: "It was a 
pheasant." 

Even then I did not understand. But little 
by little it came out that I had committed the 
unpardonable sin. For the time of pheasants 
was not yet ! There is a heavy fine for shooting 
them out of season, but that did not trouble my 
generous host. It was the shame of the thing! 
If it were ever known among his fellow sports- 
men that he or his keeper had been seen with a 
dead pheasant in their possession before the ap- 
pointed day, he was a ruined man ! 
[181 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

Never again can I laugh at Mr. Winkle ! It is 
true I had not posed as a sportsman, but I should 
have had the moral courage to decline to have 
anything to do with a sport which might bring 
sorrow to the owner of the beloved "Auld Un'," 
and entail a shameful secret on my kindly host. 

Much as I like them, I was glad to leave these 
kindly people, and one of them at least, I am sure, 
was glad to have me go ! I can only hope that I 
may not be hereafter bracketed in his mind with 
the miscreant who is suspected of shooting par- 
tridges "sitting" ! 



XXXI 

CHURCH AND STATE 

We were now headed for Chester, but stopped 
the Sunday at Malvern. We had to take ref- 
uge in the hotel near the station because 
the more select one was full; but we found it 
comfortable, and the people with whom we came 
in contact made up for the exclusive refinement 
of the smaller inn. 

On Sunday morning Ruth announced that she 
was going to take a "day off," so I went to the 
Abbey alone. It is a beautiful building in spite 
of restorations, but, as usual, I was more inter- 
ested in the people than in the building, and as I 
[ 182] 



CHURCH AND STATE 



had to look with Ruth's eyes as well as my own, 
the first thing that attracted me was the number 
of children present, and, secondly, the beauty of 
the girls' hair. There were a score of girls whose 
hair would have made the fortune of the proprietor 
of a capillary tonic. It was long and glossy, and 
fine as silk. Sometimes, it seemed to me, the 
color was rather pale, but it floated over their 
shoulders in waves of beauty. I thought of St. 
Paul's remark that a woman's glory is her hair, 
which showed a more sympathetic appreciation 
than one would have expected from such a source. 
Indeed, it is almost the only thing he says about 
women which appeals to the modern mind. 

You remember Newman's complaint, in the 
Apologia, that if there is anything more dreary 
than the Anglican service, he does not know 
what it is. Well, that may have been true in his 
day before the Romantic spirit, which in its eccle- 
siastical form we call the Oxford Movement, had 
revealed the beauty of the liturgy, but it could 
hardly have been justly said of the service this 
morning at the Abbey. But the sermon ! I have 
since learned that the vicar was ill and that a 
curate was suddenly called upon to take his place. 
It would have been far better had there been no 
sermon at all. The service was enough. I be- 
lieve it is often enough, and the trouble with us 
parsons is that we do not know when to stop! 
[ 183] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

I do not mean after the sermon has begun, but 
before it! Certainly in this church, had the 
organist been taken suddenly ill they would not 
have called on a choir boy to play the organ, nor 
should that curate have been allowed to fret the 
congregation as he did. Well, it had one merit, 
it was but ten minutes long. 

As I walked away I was joined by a man 
whom I had noticed at the hotel. He abruptly 
remarked: "Beastly sermon!" Well, "dog will 
not eat dog," so I only said: "Did you think so ?" 

"I should say I did. I call it a disgrace to 
allow such an exhibition. Damn lazy beggar, he 
didn't even get his text right. I wonder if there 
is any other profession in which such incom- 
petence would be tolerated ? I do not know what 
his stipend may be, I only know he is grossly 
overpaid no matter how small it may be." 

There did not seem to be anything to say that 
would not sound like an anticlimax after such 
eloquence, so I kept silence, a thing, by the way, 
an Englishman never resents. 

One often hears it said that Englishmen do not 
care for sermons, but I suspect they like them as 
much as other people, when they can get them! 
I have been wondering since if I should have been 
so much impressed by the girls' hair if there had 
been more men in the church ! 

As you know the Cause Celebre is making great 
[ 184 ] 



CHURCH AND STATE 



excitement here as all over the world — perhaps 
more here. As the judges were expected to give 
their decision yesterday, I hurried to the railway 
station early this morning to get a Sunday paper. 
But there are no such things ! Did you know 
that? It seems incredible that the result of this 
portentous trial is known all over the world except 
a hundred miles from the spot where the verdict 
was given. But it is so ! 

In the evening I attended service at the little 
church near the hotel — Ruth's day off lasting 
into the evening! Not that I am surprised. 
We parsons work off the nervous strain in the 
act of preaching and forget that the family has 
the strain without the relief! At any rate, that 
is the way with Ruth. I think she expects each 
Sunday that I shall come, what the English call 
a "cropper," so I am glad when she can be in- 
duced to rest on the Lord's Day. But, on the 
other hand, a parson is like an actor, of whom I 
have heard it said that if he gets a night "off" 
he goes to some other theatre ! Well, apart from 
its religious influence, which I trust was not alto- 
gether lacking, I am glad I went to this church, 
for reasons I will now explain. 

When the time for the notices came, the parson, 

with more hesitations and swallowings than I can 

describe, said: "My brethren, at this morning's 

service (ahem) I reminded you that a trial in 

[ 185] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

which the whole world is interested, (swallow) 
and in which questions of the most momentous 
importance were to be decided, (ahem) was being 
held, (ahem) and I suggested (swallow) that it 
would be well, if in your private prayers, (ahem) 
you would ask that the judges might be guided to 
a right judgment. Since then, however, (a fear- 
ful swallow) I have been informed that a private 
telegram (ahem) has been received, by a person 
present at this morning's service, saying (ahem) 
that the judgment had been rendered yesterday. 
Possibly (ahem) it may seem to some of you 
(swallow) that prayers offered after an event 
(ahem) could in no wise affect that (swallow) 
event (swallow) and (ahem) were therefore quite 
futile. But while this is (ahem) a not unnatural, 
it is (swallow) a hasty conclusion. It may be 
that they will not immediately (ahem) effect a re- 
versal of a judgment which, I am sure we all feel, 
was wrong. But even if that should not be the 
result, who can put a limit to the Divine Omnipo- 
tence? I do not believe those prayers were in 
vain — I do not believe any prayers are in vain. 
I believe that in ways we cannot foresee, God will 
bring good out of evil." 

You will note how, when he got on his own 
ground of personal experience, his confidence in- 
creased and his hesitations ceased. Illogical as it 
all sounds when it is put down in "cold" type, I 
[ 186] 



CHURCH AND STATE 



could not but admire the man's courage in stick- 
ing to his guns. And I suspect he had laid hold 
of a great truth which he could not quite swing — 
as who could? — and shall watch this case with 
new interest to see if public opinion (which some- 
how we dissociate from the influence of God's 
Spirit) does not compel the court to do justice 
in spite of all. 

I suppose there must have been a sermon, but 
I cannot remember anything about it. I had 
enough to think of in meditating on the notice ! 
I wonder how often this is the case ! 

On returning to the hotel I went into the 
smoking-room for a final pipe. There were three 
other men there, evidently "gentry" — you know 
the type and also the oppressive silence of such 
places. One would have supposed that no one 
of them had ever seen the other! For a long 
time no one spoke. Finally one of them said: 

"That was an extraordinary remark of the 
parson's this morning, asking the congregation 
to ask in their prayers that the French judges 
might be led to a right judgment, when many of 
us knew they had already rendered their de- 
cision!" 

The silence which followed was so long that I 
thought the others did not wish to be drawn into 
a discussion on such a subject. But I was mis- 
taken. One of them, when he "got good and 
[ 187] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

ready," as they used to say in the part of the 
country I know best, expressed himself as follows: 

"It was worse than futile, it was highly im- 
proper. I felt incensed! I should never dream 
of praying for the damned scoundrels — I should 
consider it almost blasphemous." 

Another long silence, and then he continued: 
"Moreover, I resent any attempt on the part of 
a parson to dictate to me what I should or should 
not pray for. I consider such things entirely 
private between me and my Maker. His advice 
was an infringement of personal liberty, and I 
highly resent it." 

As no one spoke for a little space, I had time 
to rejoice in this exhibition of sturdy Protestant 
independence, but finally the silent member of 
the party spoke: 

"I am thankful to say," he remarked, as he 
knocked the ashes out of his pipe, "that I was not 
present. My wife told me about it, and I said 
to her: 'My dear, this only illustrates what I have 
said more than once, that the clergy never in- 
trude into politics without making damn fools of 
themselves."' 

I fled and sought for Ruth ! At length I found 
her sitting in the drawing-room with three ladies 
— probably the wives of the smokers. She did 
not see me, and this is what I heard: 

First Lady: "Do you mean to say you like to 
live in America P" 

[ 188] 



CHURCH AND STATE 



Ruth: "Yes, very much." 

First Lady: "But do you not have a great deal 
of lynching there ? " 

Ruth (confusedly): "I am sorry to say we do 
have a good deal." 

Second Lady: "What is lynching?" 

First Lady: "Why, if a man is unpopular in a 
community, the leading people drag him away 
to a convenient tree and hang him. Sometimes 
they burn him. Shocking, is it not?" 

Second Lady: "It would be shocking as a 
regular thing, but I confess it seems to me a most 
admirable custom for certain occasions, and I 
should be glad if it were brought over with other 
American inventions that we have found so con- 
venient. Think what it would mean to wake 
up to-morrow and learn that Lloyd George had 
been hanged in the night!" 

Third Lady (vindictively): "Yes, and better 
still, the whole Liberal cabinet." 

Second Lady: "Oh, that would be more than 
one could hope for." 

First Lady (whose humanilarianism seems to have 
been poisoned by party politics, but is trying to pre- 
vent a Reign of Terror in England): "Surely you 
would except John Burns?" 

Third Lady: "Perhaps I should. I sometimes 
think that he has really repented, and that now 
his face is set toward the light." 

At that moment Ruth turned and caught my 
[ 189] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

eye. She followed me out of the room and, 
though choking with laughter, said: "I would 
give a good deal if you had not overheard that 
conversation!" 

"Wouldn't have missed it for worlds," I re- 
plied. " I have another picture to hang beside it, 
and I shall call them 'Church and State!'" 



XXXII 

THE CHAPLAIN TO THE QUEEN 

Our journey led us now to Chester, whence 
we started on a little trip through Northern 
Wales. I was not very keen for it, for I feared 
it might prove too " post-cardy ! " But it did 
not. 

If your memory fails you, you may turn again 
to your "Baedeker," for I do not intend to bore 
you with descriptions of scenery. 

At Betts-y-Coed we stopped at the "Waterloo," 
and took as many photos of the brawling brook 
as Mr. Pecksniff's pupils made elevations of Salis- 
bury Cathedral. 

But far more interesting to me than any land- 
scape was the porter of the hotel — John. You 
recall Oliver Wendell Holmes's description of the 
"Two Voices" — if not look it up in your "Auto- 
[ 190] 



THE CHAPLAIN TO THE QUEEN 

crat," mine is in the trunk at Chester. One of 
these voices, I remember, was that of a German 
chambermaid in a hotel at Buffalo, and the other 
— I have forgotten where ! Well, John's voice is 
more beautiful than theirs, I am sure. Indeed, I 
think it the most beautiful speaking voice I have 
ever heard — as more musical than the English 
voice than that is more musical than the Phila- 
delphian's — at which you never tire of girding! 
The timbre is exquisite, and there is a caressing 
quality in it which belongs to the Celt alone. 
Motorists, dusty, tired, hungry, and cross drove 
up hour after hour, and John's greeting was as 
comfortable as a warm bath. And when I say 
bath, I mean a wallow in a tub and not a wash 
in a tin basin — but I forgot. Ruth asked me 
not to mention "baths" again until we passed 
Sandy Hook. I do not know why. Perhaps 
you do? 

What is it makes the Celt so much more lovable 
than the Saxon ? Some of their qualities are not 
sterling. Some of them are not quite honest in 
small matters, and their standard of truth is not 
ours. They used to tell us in the seminary that 
the elder brother in the parable stood for the 
Jew, and the prodigal for the Gentile. Why does 
not some man who does not wish to be a bishop 
or to go to the General Convention, say that they 
are types of the Saxon and the Celt ? It has the 
[ 191 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

advantage of a "modern instance," and is prob- 
ably quite as true ! 

At any rate, it is the Celt who is lovable, though 
the Saxon may be admirable. Well, perhaps that 
means that the Saxon has arrived, and that the 
future belongs to the Celt. This, at any rate, is 
my feeling as I think of the Welsh. Perhaps my 
feelings may undergo a change when I cross to 
Ireland ! In the meantime, I am sure the Welsh- 
man would object to be called a prodigal, as who 
would not ! 

The average American returns from England 
declaring that the climate is wretched, and I have 
often shared that opinion myself, but, after all, 
where can one enjoy the twilight as in the British 
Isles ? We do not know what it means, at home. 
But here from eight to ten in the evening is the 
most enjoyable part of the day. We were sitting 
in the garden of the hotel in this pleasant time, 
I smoking and Ruth thinking — I wonder of what ? 
There was a far-away look in her eyes — when a 
man came out of the dining-room and settled 
himself in one of the basket chairs on the lawn, 
not far from us and, drawing out a dainty case, 
lit a small cigar, whose aroma floated to us. 
I glanced at him indifferently, but when Ruth 
said, "That is an interesting face," looked at 
him more carefully. He was evidently a clergy- 
man, but his dress was not that of the conventional 
[ 192] 



THE CHAPLAIN TO THE QUEEN 

parson, with the rigid "dog collar." He wore a 
waistcoat which buttoned to the throat, but was 
open enough to show a lawn cravat and a shirt of 
fine linen, which softened his somewhat formal 
costume. He looked not unlike the portrait of 
Dean Stanley which hangs in your study, and evi- 
dently belonged to the same period or a little 
later. His face showed breeding and was one that 
would attract attention. It lacked, however, the 
high intelligence of Stanley, being rather weak — 
indeed almost self-indulgent — in a refined way. 
Suddenly I recalled him. It was the Rev. Henry 
Waitland, rector of a fashionable West-end 
"Chapel of Ease." I had last seen him when I 
was in college, at one of John Ropes's Sunday 
dinners. I remembered that I had been told that 
he was a well-known man in London, a friend of 
Ellen Terry's and other celebrities. Indeed, he 
had the reputation of being more interested in 
the drama than in divinity ! I thought it might 
please Ruth to meet him, so I strolled over and 
introduced myself, reminding him of our last 
meeting. 

He was polite, but not enthusiastic. Indeed I 
was reminded of the remark of the "con man" 
on the steamer ! However, when he caught a 
glimpse of Ruth, and learned she was my wife, 
he seemed to think better of us, and asked to be 
presented. 

[ 193 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

When we had talked a little about Boston and 
he found that Ruth knew the right people, he 
thawed out and began to talk about London and 
the distinguished people he had known. It was 
most interesting to hear about the people one 
knew from books and get the impressions of an 
eye-witness. 

Ruth asked him what a "Queen's chaplain" 
was? He laughed and said it was a man who 
had to leave his own congregation and go to 
Windsor to preach before the Queen whenever 
"commanded." Ruth remarked that she should 
think that would be a bore. But he said it was 
an honor. This sounded like a snub, but was 
evidently intended only as a statement of fact. 

"Still," he added, "I will not deny that it is 
sometimes inconvenient. For instance: A few 
years ago I was summoned to preach the Easter 
sermon before her Majesty, and would much have 
preferred to stop at home for that day. How- 
ever, I went to Windsor, and found that my old 
friend Ponsonby was to take the service, but as 
I was to preach he suggested that I read the 
gospel. But imagine my surprise when, instead 
of saying the collect for Easter, he said a collect 
which for the life of me I could not recall, or 
rather could not tell to what Sunday it belonged ! 
You may imagine my embarrassment ! I said to 
myself: 'Whatever shall I do? Shall I read the 
[ 191 ] 



THE CHAPLAIN TO THE QUEEN 

Gospel for Easter, or shall I match Ponsonby?' 
It seemed the decent thing to stand by him, but 
then I said to myself, 'How can I match Pon- 
sonby, when I don't know this minute what 
Epistle he is now reading?' And then I said to 
myself: ' You have nothing to do with Ponsonby. 
You have been commanded to preach before her 
Majesty on Easter Day, and your business is to 
read the service appointed for that day ! ' And 
that is what I did. 

"After service the Queen sent for me, and after 
saying a few pleasant things, added : ' I was both 
astonished and annoyed that Mr. Ponsonby 
should not have read the Collect for Easter.' I 
didn't want to be unfair to Ponsonby, but I said : 
'You may imagine my feeling, ma'am, when I 
heard a collect for I did not know what day, and 
though I said to myself "Shall I match Pon- 
sonby?" I did think it best to read the collect 
appointed for the day.' 

"'You were quite right,' said the Queen, 'and 
I shall tell Mr. Ponsonby how much I dislike any 
deviation from the appointed service.' 

"So you see," he added, "that honors have 
their burdens." 

Now I ask you, has Trollope any clerical story 
to equal this? 



[195] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

XXXIII 

THE RETIRED COLONEL 

We took many lovely drives, using Betts-y- 
Coed as a centre, but as you have done it all on 
foot you will not want to listen to my raptures, 
so I will again tell you about the people I met. 

I had not cared to go to Llandidno, for it is the 
paradise of trippers, but John the porter told me 
we ought not to miss it, so thither we went. The 
sands were a sight never to be forgotten. Hun- 
dreds of children were on the beach, the little 
ones laboriously building houses, forts, and even 
towns — all of which the lapping sea soon licked 
up. "Vanity of vanities," saith the preacher: 
But the preacher knew nothing of children, else 
he would have said they were the only wise ones. 
Their play is not "vanity," it is when men lose 
the sense of proportion, and act as if things "seen" 
are eternal, that vanity eats out the heart. These 
children were wise. They knew their labor was 
but for a moment, and therefore did not weep, 
but rather laughed, when the tongue of the sea 
touched their work and it was gone. However 
you do not care to hear me moralize ! 

Surely no more beautiful children can be found 
in the world than these English children. They 
may lack the vivacity of French and American 
[ 196] 



THE RETIRED COLONEL 



children, but, on the other hand, they are free 
from the self-consciousness of the one and the 
febrile nervousness of the other. They are su- 
perb little animals, which is what a child ought to 
be. Those that I saw on the sands — and I sup- 
pose it is generally true — had the supreme animal 
virtue, which is obedience. The babies obeyed 
the nurses, the "middle-sized bears" obeyed the 
"big bears," and all obeyed — not as with us — the 
mother, but the father. For it is the man who 
is the supreme court in England. One never hears 
the familiar "Well, ask your mother!" And 
the result is a well-organized feudal society, in 
which there is far more happiness than in many 
of the so-called democratic, but really anarchistic, 
families that you and I could name. In short, 
the family is a microcosm of that larger life in 
which, some day, the children are to take their 
places. 

When I imparted these reflections to Ruth, she 
said: "You have missed the best." 

"And what might that be, Madame Philos- 
opher?" said I. 

"If you had not set up to be a philosopher, 
yourself," she pertly remarked, "you would have 
seen the obvious, which so many philosophers 
overlook. It is the hair and the eyes of these 
children that makes them so beautiful. Did you 
ever see such hair as these girls have? It floats 
[197] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

in the air like the corn-silk on an Indiana farm ! 
And look at the eyes of the boys; they are not 
blue as we count blueness, but real blue, like the 
delphinium. I wonder if the English reputation 
for truthfulness above other nations is not in 
part due to the prevailing blue eyes ? Who could 
doubt anything that angel were to say?" 

I looked at the "angel" in question, and laughed 
heartily at this attempt to imitate Taine ! 

The people on the sands were not trippers. 
Those hung round the shops and the booths, where, 
for a penny, one might take a shy at "Aunt Sally." 
Or, if they came to the sands at all, gathered in 
shrieking groups about the "niggers," men 
blacked up, indeed, but whose yellow hair and 
blue eyes made disguise as impossible as did their 
cockney accent. Why is it, I wonder, that all 
people think they can imitate negroes? I once 
saw a minstrel show given by Chinamen, and, I 
assure you, it was scarcely more grotesque than 
these "niggers" on the sands. 

No, my friends were not such as these. They 
were what Matthew Arnold, in his supercilious 
way, called "Philistines." But I miss my guess 
if, should a great crisis arise, the "culture" of 
England will not be saved, if saved it is, by these 
same Philistines, even as David of old was saved 
by the bearers of the name from the tyranny of 
Saul! "The submerged tenth," in England, as 
[ 198] 



THE RETIRED COLONEL 



elsewhere, is green or rotten; the upper classes 
are over-ripe; it is the great middle class, without 
charm or culture, which will show what England's 
heart is, when the great struggle comes. 

"But," you will say, "what struggle? Only 
a little while ago you were writing that you 
thought all this talk about war was nothing but 
what you elegantly called 'fluff,' and now you 
write as if an ultimatum from one of the great 
powers was imminent. What has happened to 
change your tune?" 

In reply, I can only say "Nothing tangible." 
But there is a tension which one comes gradually 
to feel. For instance, the German contempt and 
hatred of England is too well known to call for 
comment. It is like what my father told me our 
Southern friends felt about the North in the days 
before the outbreak of war, and which he felt 
had as much to do with secession as did slavery. 
But few people with us appreciate the feeling in 
England toward the Germans. Business men are 
exasperated by Germany's expanding trade — 
especially in regard to trade-marks — the states- 
men, even of the Liberal school, are anxious about 
the naval activities across the North Sea. But 
more significant still is the fact that some of the 
"best-selling" novels and most popular plays are 
picturing the invasion of England by Germany. 
This, of course, appeals most strongly to the 
[ 199] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

Jingoes, but even such a respectable — if semi- 
chauvinistic — paper as the Spectator is solemnly 
discussing an "amicable" division of the "back- 
ward" world — including Brazil, to which, said the 
writer — it was a leading article — "we should have 
no objection." Shades of Monroe! And yet, 
while they do not seem to think we should have 
any voice in the partition of the world, they are 
apparently convinced that we must feel about the 
mother country as Canada does. The truth is, 
the people of England have never recognized the 
independence of the United States! That is to 
say, they cannot believe that we do not regret the 
Revolution as sincerely as they now do, and that, 
were it possible, we should be glad to enter into 
a closer political association with them. In other 
words, while the fact of our independence must 
be assumed by the two governments, our senti- 
ments must be colonial ! 

A few days ago I was talking with a retired 
colonel, who is convinced that war may break 
out any day, and he said to me: "I suppose if 
the old country had her back to the wall you 
would come to her help?" 

I answered: "I do not think you could count 
on it. It would depend a good deal on the cause 
of the quarrel. There was a strong feeling against 
England during the Boer War, and there are 
thousands of Americans of pure British stock 
[ 200 ] 



THE RETIRED COLONEL 



who do not think that Ireland has had a fair 
deal." 

He looked at me for a moment as if he could 
not credit his ears, and then simply said: "My 
G— d!" 

Had I known how deeply it would wound him, 
I would not have spoken. Certainly the thought 
of war between us and England is too horrible to 
put into words, and I dare say if there were a 
possibility of England's being crushed by a world 
power the superficial differences would be swept 
away like the sand-forts of the children, and deep 
would call to deep as it was recognized that the 
two peoples share a common ideal, and that it 
must be defended for the good of mankind. You 
know how I feel about war, yet I confess that 
should there be a righteous war in which Eng- 
land and America fought side by side it might 
not only remove the petty misunderstandings of 
the past but also lead to an abiding peace in the 
future. If only England could see that the Irish 
question is an American question ! 

Meanwhile, I wish the Times would let Germany 
alone, and English travellers let us alone for a 
while ! 

Dr. Weir Mitchell once told me that he had a 
patient — a policeman from somewhere in the Jer- 
seys — Newark, I think — who was a victim of an 
idee fixe. He asked him if he had ever been 
[201 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

bitten by a mosquito? The man, with a wan 
smile, said: "What do you think?" 

"Very good," said Dr. Mitchell. "When you 
let it alone it soon ceased to trouble you, but if 
you scratched it it festered, and you had a hard 
time. You must quit scratching this thought!" 

But what was the poor fellow to do if every 
passer-by scratched it? 



XXXIV 

A PROBLEM IN CASUISTRY 

Well, we now have the Celt with a vengeance ! 
Cork is the most detestable place I ever saw. 
Such drunkenness, filth, and squalor I never 
dreamed possible outside of China! Ardent 
Home Ruler as I am, I can now understand the 
Ulsterman's fear and hatred of a rule that might 
turn Belfast into such a dunghill ! You will say, 
and no doubt you are right, that this shows a 
lack of faith, and that thrift drives out filth. But 
sometimes it works the other way. At any rate, 
one cannot wonder that the Ulsterman should 
think that not faith like a mustard-seed, but like 
a mountain, would be needed to enable a man to 
believe that Protestant Ulster can be benefited by 
an alliance with Dublin and Cork. However, 
[ 202 ] 



A PROBLEM IN CASUISTRY 



this is supposed to be the chronicle of a car and 
not a new treatise on the Irish Question. 

When we were at Chester I bought a "slicker," 
which the salesman called a "shirt," and by that 
name it has gone between us ever since. As you 
may fancy, it has proved a useful article when I 
tell you that here, "The rain it raineth every 
day," not all the time, of course, but when one 
least expects it. The very sun is wet ! But when 
it shines the landscape has the same sweet expres- 
sion that one sees on the face of a dear little girl 
who has shed a few tears and is again smiling. 

The morning we left Killarney it was not rain- 
ing like that, but coming down in torrents. In- 
deed we were the only travellers who faced the 
storm. A good part of the company assembled 
on the porch to see us start. The hood was up, 
so that Ruth could not see me as I went to the 
rear of the motor to see if the chains were tight, 
but, ever solicitous of my welfare, she called out 
in an agonized tone: "John, have you got your 
shirt on?" 

To which I replied: "I am not sure. I slept 
in it, but whether I put it on again after my bath, 
I can't remember!" 

You never saw a crowd melt away so suddenly ! 

One lady ejaculated "Fancy!" and one man 

laughed and waited to wave us farewell. He, I 

had been told, was a duke. I do not know if it 

[ 203 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

were true. In Ireland one is never quite sure 
what is true. And, what is worse, or better, if 
you feel that way, I am unable to tell a duke from 
the commonalty ! 

Ruth says there is nothing funny in this story, 
and that I acted as if I lived on Second Avenue ! 
Well, I can't tell. It made a duke laugh — if he 
were a duke — and that is no small feat ! 

The atmosphere soon showed the Celtic tem- 
perament. Or is it the other way about, and is 
temperament a natural reaction to atmosphere? 
At any rate the sun soon shone fair and warm, 
and the conditions for motoring would have been 
perfect had the roads been better. Unfortunately 
not only is the surface bad, but the roads are 
very narrow — a new danger — of which we were 
soon to have experience. 

We were running along at a fair gait — Ruth 
says racing! — when suddenly, at a turn in the 
road I found myself under the feet of a team of 
horses, which loomed up like elephants. It was 
too late to turn, so I acted automatically, cer- 
tainly without conscious volition, and threw the 
car into a hedge. It was a stout one, and the 
car rose like a hunter and came to rest on the 
top, which held it! No, this is not an "Irish" 
story, only a story of Ireland. 

A gentleman was walking across the field and 
ran to our assistance. Gallant Irishman that he 
[204] 



A PROBLEM IN CASUISTRY 



was he asked no questions, but assisted Ruth to 
descend. She was deathly pale, but, I am proud 
to say, neither screamed nor indeed spoke. Some 
laborers gathered and helped to drag the car back 
onto the road, none the worse, so far as I could 
see, for its strange adventure, save for a few 
scratches. 

I now turned my attention to the driver of the 
cart, who all this time had remained upon his 
high perch, gazing at our efforts like a god upon 
Olympus, "careless of mankind." 

"My friend," I began, in as quiet a voice as I 
could control, "that came near being a nasty 
accident." 

"It did that, your honor." 

"You came near having both those horses 
killed." 

"That would have cost your honor a pretty 
penny, for the likes of them can't be found in the 
county. Sure the gentleman standin' there will 
tell you they took the first prize at Dublin not a 
year ago." 

"Well, you are pretty cool about it. The lady 
might have been killed, too." 

"That would have been a pity, for it's a sweet 
face she has. I was wondering she'd risk her life 
with you." 

"Risk her fife with me! Why, you impudent 
fellow," I cried, being by this time thoroughly 
[ 205 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

angry, "the fault was all yours. You were on the 
wrong side of the road." 

"Well, as for that, your honor," replied this 
incorrigible fellow, "this road's that narrer, it 
airtt properly got two sides!" 

I could think of nothing better to say than 
that I would report him to the police in the next 
town, and took the name of the owner of the cart, 
which was painted in large letters on the side. I 
did stop and report the matter to a policeman 
who was directing the traffic in a town near by. 
He was sympathetic, and said: 

"I know that man well, and the next time he 
comes to market, I will represent him to himself, V 
This was all the satisfaction I got. Indeed, I 
suspect it is as much as could be expected in Ire- 
land. After all, it was worth something to in- 
crease one's stock of phrases. To represent a 
man to himself is no small feat ! 

A little later I got from Ruth a new light on 
Irish veracity — or rather, lack of it. She says it 
arises from no evil motive, but, on the contrary, 
from kindness of heart ! This, she added, makes 
it different from any other lying in the world. 
This moral, or immoral, dictum was called forth 
by the following: I had lost my way — no^un- 
common experience — and stopped at a hovel 
to inquire the way. In answer to my call a 
veritable giant appeared. I asked if the road 
[ 206 ] 



A PROBLEM IN CASUISTRY 



we were on would bring us to Blarney Castle? 
After a moment's hesitation he said it would. 
Not feeling sure he knew, I asked again if there 
was any turning I must take? But he said: 
"No, keep straighton this road and it will bring 
you there." 

There was something in the man's face that 
led me to think he could not be an ordinary 
peasant, and therefore I asked him if he lived 
there ? 

"I was born here," he replied, rather defiantly. 
"But I've been living in Australia for the past 
seven years, and have now come back to see the 
old people." 

I said to myself that, unlike most Irishmen 
when they migrate, he had not bettered himself. 
As if he read my thought, as perhaps he did, he 
added, with a glance at his old and torn clothing: 
"I've better clothes than these, but why would 
I be wearing them to shame the neighbors!" 

Could Sir Philip Sidney have said anything 
finer ? 

"Well," I said, as I started the motor, "when 
I next come here you'll have Home Rule!" 

At that the man's whole face lighted up, and 
he cried: "Glory be to God, ye're a prophet! 
What's your name?" When I answered "Dob- 
son," without a moment's hesitation he exclaimed: 
"I've heerd of you!" 

[ 207 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

I laughed and said: "I see you've kissed the 
Blarney stone yourself." 

But there was no jocular reply. The thing was 
too serious for that. The man was inflamed. 
Why cannot the English appreciate that the love 
of nationality is inextinguishable ? 

The rain began again and fell persistently and we 
slithered on our way. It's a long lane that has no 
turning, and this was one, though it did nothing but 
turn. Always it was leading to the right, though I 
felt it should lead straight on or else bear to the left. 

Finally we came to a highway that somehow 
looked familiar, and before we had gone a mile 
farther, I found that we were where we had started 
from an hour before ! There was the wretched 
hovel where the giant dwelt, and a vigorous shout 
brought him to the door. 

"See here, my friend," I cried, "what did you 
mean by telling me that that road would lead to 
Blarney Castle? I have kept on it all the time, 
and it has brought me back here." 

"Now ain't that a shame? I never thought 
such a thing would happen to you. Now I'll tell 
you God's truth. You was clean out of your way 
when you was last here. You ought to have left 
the road you are on this minute as much as seven 
miles back. And when you asked me if yonder 
road would lead to Blarney Castle, and I looked 
at the lovely face of the lady, and she lookin' 
[ 208 ] 



A PROBLEM IN CASUISTRY 



tired, too, I hadn't the heart to tell you you must 
turn back. I thought when you got on this road 
again ye would have turned the other way, and 
not have lost so much anyway. And how was I 
to know you wouldn't meet a man who wouldn't 
mind telling bad news, and who would set you on 
your way ? But as for me, I hadn't the heart to 
doit!" 

And that's what Ruth calls "lying from a kind 
heart!" A cynic might suggest that the "lovely 
lady" had something to do with this charitable 
if immoral dictum ! 

Well, there was nothing to do but to turn back 
and drive for the third time over a road I had 
come to hate. About seven miles back we found 
the proper turning, and, after much splashing, 
came to Blarney Castle. 

I did not kiss the stone, for I had no desire to 
get a water-spout down the back of my neck by 
leaning out of the window — as you may remem- 
ber one must do — to perform the feat. Indeed I 
thought there was force in Lord Chesterfield's 
advice to his son, when he said he intended to go 
down into a coal-mine: 

"What for?" asked the noble lord. 

"Why, to say I have been down one !" 

"Why not say it?" he replied. 

Indeed I am inclined to think that is what a 
good many people have done at Blarney ! 
[ 209 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

XXXV 

A DAY OF TROUBLE AND DISTRESS 

Whether because I did not kiss the Blarney 
stone, or for some other reason, the next day was 
one of trouble and distress. Indeed, it came 
near being our last day. For several days I had 
noticed that the self-starter was not working well. 
Several times it had failed to catch and required 
a good deal of coaxing. I could not understand 
it, for it was not yet three weeks since I had filled 
the batteries with water, which, I had been told, 
was all that was necessary to insure its function- 
ing. I thought that possibly the damp weather 
had affected the electrical current, and could only 
hope that with clearing weather there would be 
no further trouble. But at the next stop the 
little engine refused to act at all, and I had to 
unpack the handle and crank, which is an exer- 
cise good for neither the back nor the temper ! 

A little later we came to a road which branched 
from the highway to the left, and Ruth, who had 
charge of the map, called out: "To the right." 
I leave it to you: would not you have thought 
that meant to turn somewhere ? If not, why not 
say: "Keep straight on." At any rate, I turned 
sharp into the left-hand road, only to find that 
we were in a cul-de-sac. Turning was impossible, 
[210] 



A DAY OF TROUBLE AND DISTRESS 

so I kept on, wondering why Ruth, who must 
have known how tired I was, should have driven 
me into such a place ! 

Finally, we came to a gate, and as I did not dare 
leave the car lest it stall — we were on an incline 
which tipped the car back and made cranking 
difficult — I asked Ruth to get out and open the 
gate. I saw that just beyond there was a place 
where, with great care the car might be turned, 
but where the chances of stalling were great. 
Still, I thought, if I could keep the car going I 
might manage it. I called to Ruth not to get 
in and began slowly to turn. The road was just 
the width of the wheels, with a bog on each side. 
Looking up I saw a huge dog lying in the way. 
It was as ugly a looking brute as one would 
wish to see, even if it was chained. I blew the 
horn. It did not stir. Then, to my horror, I 
saw Ruth, who is more afraid of a dog than I am 
of a cat, which is saying a good deal, seize the 
brute by the tail and begin to drag it out of the 
way ! I [turned sick with terror, and, under the 
nervous strain, did what I have not done since 
I was in college — swore. "Damnation," I cried, 
"turn that dog loose!" And Ruth, equally ex- 
cited, answered in a fine frenzy: "I would pull 
him if he were a mad bull !" 

Fortunately, the dog made no resistance, ana 
the car was safely turned. Had it stalled, I do 
[211 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

not know what I should have done, for I was 
"all in." 

One would have thought this was enough for 
one day, but worse was yet to come. About an 
hour later we came to a railway crossing. All 
the level crossings are not on Long Island ! There 
are several in Ireland ! This one was kept by a 
woman, with, I think, the saddest face I ever saw. 
She opened the gate and thanked me for the six- 
pence I handed her, but neither smiled nor spoke. 

We passed onto the track and, probably because 
I was so tired and was driving carelessly, we 
stalled. I was about to get out to crank when 
the woman appeared at my side, and said, so 
quietly that Ruth could not hear: "It would 
maybe be better if the lady got out. The Dublin 
express is due round the curve at any minute!" 
Could anything have been more considerate? 
Had she screamed, I fear I should have been so 
unnerved that we should have been lost. 

At that moment the engine of the approaching 
train gave a shriek and I could feel the rails vi- 
brate. My blood turned to water. We were 
pinned under the hood, and escape seemed im- 
possible. Almost without knowing what I was 
doing, I stamped on the pedal of the self-starter, 
and — I say it reverently — by the mercy of God 
it caught, and we slid off the track as the express 
thundered by ! 

[ 212 ] 



A DAY OF TROUBLE AND DISTRESS 

The rushing wind nearly blew us out of the 
motor. There could not have been a yard be- 
tween us and the train. I looked at Ruth. She 
was as pale as death, but spoke no word. You 
may be sure I did not forget a thank-offering to 
the poor gatekeeper, who was white with terror. 

As we went on our way I said to myself: "If 
ever we reach an inn in safety, I will give the car 
away. The impudent driver who said he won- 
dered Ruth would risk her life with me was right." 

But it was long before we reached an inn, for 
I lost my way! This time it was not Ruth's 
fault. She was probably so shaken that she 
could not see the way; at any rate she gave me 
the wrong road, and we wandered over the hills 
until we were nearly distracted. When we 
reached Ross late at night you may believe neither 
of us had much appetite for the greasy supper 
which was set before us. 

Suddenly, without a word of warning, Ruth 
put her head down on the table and burst into 
tears ! It was so unlike her that I was dreadfully 
frightened. I got her to bed and put a hot-water 
bottle to her feet, and sat by her till she was 
more quiet, and then went outside in the rain to 
smoke a pipe, and "represent myself to myself." 
When I had flagellated myself for all my ill temper, 
and returned thanks for the mercies of the day, 
I too went to bed, but not to sleep for many an 
[213 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

hour. When at last I did fall asleep, it was only 
to dream of a huge dog, rushing down a railroad 
track, whistling like a locomotive and breathing 
streams of fire from his mouth. It doesn't take 
a Freud to interpret that dream ! 

In spite of my troubled night, or perhaps in 
consequence of it, I woke early. The sun was 
streaming into my bedroom as if to say: "Slug- 
gard, arise. I was only fooling yesterday when 
I pretended that Ireland had a rainy climate. 
To-day is like Italy, and even the dirty streets of 
Ross are beautiful!" 

My mind was quickly made up, and as soon as 
I was dressed I made my way to the station and 
found that I could ship the motor to Dublin on 
a flat car and that it would be delivered to us 
there the next morning. So I returned to the 
garage and drove to the station, feeling not un- 
like Tartarin, when he sold the chameau for a 
ticket in the diligence, which, Daudet remarks, 
is not a bad use to make of a camel ! 

Ruth was more relieved, I am sure, than she 
cared to show, when she learned that she might 
have a quiet morning in bed and take the train 
for Dublin in the afternoon. 

As we entered the dining-room of the Shel- 

burne that evening, whom should we meet but 

the Hodges? This was a joy to Ruth, who, I 

knew, would find rest in telling her story to her 

[214] 



A DAY OF TROUBLE AND DISTRESS 

sympathetic friend Anne, and a satisfaction to 
me, for I knew there was nothing about motors 
hid from her husband, the professor. Indeed, it 
was he who had advised me to buy a Frontenac, 
though he himself is "a man who owns one," and 
was driving his big Packard, with comfort and 
pride. 

When he had recovered from his hilarity over 
my experiences, he said that next morning we 
would look over the car and find the trouble with 
the self-starter, while Ruth and Anne were shop- 
ping for linen and laces. 

The car was ready for us when we arrived at 
the Goods station, next morning, and we drove 
to the garage for a consultation. 

There seemed to be nothing wrong with the 
engine, nor with the connections, but, when we 
examined the batteries, we found that they had 
run down! I explained that I had filled them 
myself not two weeks ago, but when the professor 
saw that I had failed to note the date on the little 
card for that purpose, it was evident that he was 
sceptical. Well, there was nothing more to do 
but to have the batteries charged again, and as 
the man of the garage seemed to be a capable 
fellow, I hoped I should have no more trouble. 

We spent two pleasant days in Dublin, saw 
where Sir Frederick Cavendish had been murdered 
— this is not mentioned as one of the pleasures! 
[215] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

And then went to the cathedral and thought of 
the savage old dean whom Thackeray has so 
wonderfully described — perhaps the best of all 
his portraits — then to Trinity College* where I 
confess, Charles O'Malley was more real to me 
than some of the scholars who have made illus- 
trious that ancient seat of learning. 

The professor is not "sound" on Irish politics, 
but when we went to Dublin Castle and saw 
some of the young men whom England sends to 
govern the most imaginative people on earth, 
even he had to admit that things might be im- 
proved ! Supercilious good manners in an atmos- 
phere of boredom is not the best means for im- 
pressing the Irish with the intelligence, nor even 
with the justice, of England. 

The weather was again "set fair," so that we 
left Ireland in a blaze of glory. The Hodges were 
on their way to the Giant's Causeway. But 
when I told them they would find the roads bad, 
the professor remarked that no doubt all the roads 
were bad in the south, and that when Home Rule 
went into effect those of the north would be 
equally so, but that while the Union Jack floated 
over Belfast, and the Protestant religion was still 
a power, he had no fear ! So we parted — perhaps 
it was time ! 

We crossed to HoUyhead, and, the car running 
like a witch, it was not long before we reached 
[ 216 ] 



'ONE EVERY MINUTE" 



the Waterloo, where John greeted us as if he had 
not thought of any one else since we were last 
there ! 



XXXVI 

"ONE EVERY MINUTE" 

The self-starter is again out of order ! I found 
it cheaper to pay an odd man a shilling each time 
I wanted to crank than to break my back, which 
is what I did on our way to Barchester. 

When we reached the hotel there, how different 
was our reception from that which John had ac- 
corded us at the Waterloo! The strictly polite 
and equally indifferent young woman at the desk 
seemed to think it rather a bore to have us return 
to them ! I hear there is an old coaching inn in 
that town where they receive one as a friend, and 
if I ever return to that ancient city I shall go there. 

I took the car to the garage and asked the man 
in charge if he thought he could find the trouble. 
He said the battery was run down ! Instead of 
saying what I thought, I politely remarked that 
that could hardly be as I had it charged less than 
a week before in Dublin. 

"Dublin!" he exclaimed contemptuously. 

Well, there was nothing to do but to have it 
charged again — you know they do not perform 
[ 217 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

this service for nothing — and write to the Fron- 
tenac Co., in London, telling them what I thought 
of this invention which was to "revolutionize 
motoring." 

Their answer was what was to have been ex- 
pected. "Mine was the first complaint they had 
received. Of course it was impossible to express 
an opinion as to the cause of the trouble till they 
had examined the car in their own shops in Lon- 
don, etc." There was a postscript, in which the 
writer suggested that I might have misused the 
car and ruined the mechanism, in which case it 
would be necessary to install a new generator at 
a cost of about three hundred dollars ! 

This struck me as humorous, for by this time 
I was convinced that the chauffeur in London 
who had said that all changes on American 
cars were not improvements was right. How I 
wished I had one of those well-balanced foreign 
cars, which start with a half turn of the handle, 
instead of one of these new-fangled "Yankee 
notions," which promise so much and are out of 
order half the time ! 

I was rather low in my mind as we sat in the 
garden after dinner and discussed our plans. 
Should we go on to Scotland, as we had intended, 
or should we sell the car for what it would bring, 
and buy an English one, or should we give up 
and go on the Continent and travel like other folk ? 
[218] 



"ONE EVERY MINUTE" 



Ruth cried out at the thought of selling the 
car: "Why, I love it," she cried, and could not 
bear the thought of giving it up. "Surely when 
the agent sees it he will be able to find the trouble 
— it really may be something very simple, after 
all." 

"If it were simple," I gloomily replied, "the 
professor would have discovered it. He knows 
all there is to know about a motor." 

"No," she answered, "it does not follow. You 
know how often you have said the great special- 
ists are so anxious to find some abnormal disease 
that they often overlook the most common ex- 
planation. It may be the same now." 

Well, there was nothing that could be done till 
we reached London, and thither we planned to 
start the next morning, or as soon as the car was 
charged. 

To cheer me up Ruth now told me of her con- 
versation in this same garden with the typical 
John Bull, of which she said she had written you. 
While I was feebly smiling — I was still too un- 
happy to laugh — a telegram was brought me 
which had Ruth's name in full, so it evidently 
was intended I should not open it even in her 
absence. 

When she had read it, she said: "What do you 
think? This is from Maud, saying she will be 
here in the morning, and asking me to wait for 
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ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

her as she wishes to see me on a matter of im- 
portance. Would you mind starting without us 
and let me follow by train and meet you in 
London?" 

I have my faults as a husband, but I believe 
Ruth will testify that I am not one of those who 
insist upon knowing what their wives have in 
mind when they are not telling "the whole truth" ! 
So I said: "Of course not." And so it was 
arranged. 

I did ask if she would like me to make a late 
start so as to be here when her sister arrived. 
But she said I must not think of it. So then I 
saw I was to know nothing, and that it would 
conduce to the greatest happiness of the greatest 
number if I left as soon as possible. 

Fortunately for me, the battery was not in 
process of being charged, for the man said he 
did not know there was any hurry ! So I was 
able to make an early start. I cut across lots and 
made straight for Banbury, where I stopped at 
the same inn which had so charmed me on a 
previous visit, an inn which would have charmed 
— perhaps did charm — Dickens. The next day 
I went again through Oxford, and so to London, 
entering on the west side, which I had learned 
was the easiest of the many gates to enter. 

When I reached the garage of the Frontenac 
Co., the manager listened to my tale of woe 
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"QNE EVERY MINUTE" 



with patience, but, when I said I had bought 
that particular make of car because I had been 
assured by the salesman that it was warranted 
"fool proof," dryly remarked that every war- 
rant had a limit, and reminded me that one was 
"born every minute." I could not find a suit- 
able reply, and so left the car with him, promising 
to return the next day. 

By way of distraction I went that night to one 
of the great music-halls, which proved to be a 
kind of glorified "Keith's." 

Sarah Bernhardt was the attraction, but not 
to me! There was nothing left, it seemed to 
me, but the mannerisms of the second empire, 
and I was glad when she left the stage. Had there 
been nothing else — such as acrobats and per- 
forming dogs, both of which I delight in — it would 
have been worth the price of admission to see 
Chevallier alone. He was inimitable. 

It would pay the trustees of a theological semi- 
nary to import him to give "The Charity Bazaar" 
before the class in pastoral theology ! It was the 
most disgusting picture of the sycophantic priestly 
you ever saw. The people screamed with laugh- 
ter — let us hope because it was a caricature and 
that they had never seen the original. 

"The Vicar," dressed in the latest cry in "cleri- 
cals," is supposed to be receiving the guests at 
a Charity Bazaar. His insolence to the poor, his 
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ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

failure to "see" the unholy dissenters, his cringing 
to the prosperous and his crawling before the 
duchess, who was the last to arrive, filled me with 
such shame that I had to shake myself to remember 
that it was acting, and that I was not called upon 
to make any remarks ! If ever again you see me 
worshipping the Golden Calf, please show me 
this letter! It was a positive relief when the 
performing dogs came on the stage. 

When I repaired to the garage next day, the 
manager said he could find nothing wrong with 
the car. The only trouble was that I had let 
the battery run down. I sarcastically remarked 
that he was mistaken; I had not let the battery 
run down, it had run down of itself, and that that 
was the best thing it did, that the battery had 
now been charged three times in two weeks. He 
said that the local garages were often careless 
about such matters, but that I should now find 
that it was all right. When I tried it I found 
that it functioned well, but as I could not start 
without Ruth, from whom I had heard nothing 
since leaving Barchester, I decided to leave the 
car in Ins care for another day at least. 

When I took my place at the driver's seat next 
day, I insisted that the manager should be present 
before I tested the car again. So he was sent 
for. I took my place and pressed the button. 
"Nothing doing." The manager suggested that 
[ 222 ] 



"ONE EVERY MINUTE' 



the damp weather might have affected the cur- 
rent, and asked me to try again. This I did, with 
the same result as before. Then the manager 
tried, but it simply would not work. 

"What do you think is the matter?" I said to 
the foreman, who, like the manager, is an Amer- 
ican. 

He laconically replied: "You may search me." 

The manager said nothing and I viciously re- 
marked: "Perhaps the battery has run down. 
Some of these garages are so careless !" 

He started to say something, and then evi- 
dently thought better of it. After a moment he 
said: "Well, I simply do not understand it. 
You saw for yourself that it worked perfectly 
two days ago?" 

"Yes," I said, "it always works 'perfectly' im- 
mediately after charging, but forty-eight hours 
later is 'dead.' The truth is the thing is a fail- 
ure." 

"There will not be an American car on the 
market next year without one. They all follow 
the lead of the 'Frontenac,'" he indignantly re- 
plied. 

"This one will not lead them far," I said, being 
by this time thoroughly disgusted. 

"Our chief engineer is in Scotland, but is re- 
turning to-morrow. If you will leave the car 
here I will have him go over it from headlights to 
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ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

brake, and he will find the difficulty. You say 
it always runs till forty-eight hours after charg- 
ing?" ' 

"Yes, that has been my experience." 

"How long since you first had this trouble?" 

"About three weeks." 

"Well, there is evidently nothing mechanically 
wrong. There is probably a leak which we have 
not been able to locate, and there the current 
escapes. If he cannot discover the trouble, I 
will cable to headquarters at home and we will 
see if you are right, and the invention is a failure. 
If you have made such a discovery, I should not 
like to say how many thousands of dollars the 
company has lost. But you may be sure the 
'Frontinac' will scrap it quicker than they in- 
stalled it." 

I had gone to the "Holland," which Ruth scorns, 
and I must say that, in my frame of mind at the 
time, I did not find the voices of my fellow 
countrymen soothing ! A number of people were 
gathered in the great room under the glass dome, 
having afternoon tea, when a small boy appeared 
in the doorway and called out in a shrill voice: 
"Mummer, pop says can't you get a move on?" 
Mummer was fat and slow, but she did get the 
move on, and, what must have been a relief to 
the rest of the company, her son did the same ! 
I thought with regret of the dear little children 
[ 224 ] 



'ONE EVERY MINUTE" 



at Llandino, and wished we might devote a little 
more time to voice culture. At that moment a 
page passed through, saying very quietly — so 
different from our "paging" at home: "Mr. Dob- 
son, if you please; Mr. Dobson, if you please," 
and when he came opposite where I was sitting, 
I did "please," and he handed me a telegram. 
It was from Ruth, saying that she and her sister 
were at a small hotel in Kensington, and asking 
me to join them. But of what Ruth told me 
when I reached there I will tell you after I have 
finished the story of the self-starter. 

Three anxious days passed, and I again pre- 
sented myself at the garage. I noticed that every 
one who saw me grinned, which did not make me 
feel better disposed toward the company. When 
the manager appeared — he, too, was smiling — I 
said: "Have you found the trouble?" 

"Oh, yes," he said, "the battery had run 
down." 

"So I suppose," I replied, with biting sarcasm. 
"Have you found the leak?" 

"Yes, the engineer found it as soon as we told 
him that the battery ran down forty-eight hours 
after charging." 

"Will it work now?" 

"Like new; would you like to try it?" 

"Yes," I replied, but without enthusiasm. 
But I no sooner pressed the pedal than the cheer- 
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ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

ful hum which had first attracted me was heard, 
and the engine began to turn over. 

"How do I know that it will work twenty-four 
hours from now?" I asked. 

"You don't, but we will guarantee it, with 
reasonable care." 

"All right," I said. "And now what do I 
owe you?" 

"That depends upon you," said the cheerful 
manager. "If you will let us publish this story 
in our trade journal, and sign your name to it, 
we will gladly remit the bill." 

"I don't think I understand," said I, with con- 
siderable dignity. " What story ? ' ' 

"The story of the car that was charged five 
times in two weeks, and ran down each time 
forty-eight hours later." 

"Well, what of it?" 

"This of it. That I suppose it is the first time 
in the history of motoring, in which the headlights 
have been left on for three weeks, burning night and 
day!" 

Yes, that is what had happened. The weather 
being continuously rainy in Ireland, I had covered 
the headlights so snugly that no light seeped 
through the covers, and then must carelessly 
have touched the button which lights them, and 
so had been exhausting the current as fast as it 
[ 226 ] 



ANGLIA OR FRONTENAC? 



could be generated ! ! ! I paid my bill and kept 
the story for you ! 

The manager evidently felt he "owed me one," 
for, as he handed me the receipt he said: "I am 
sorry you would not let us have that story to 
print. I was thinking of calling it 'One Every 
Minute.'" 



XXXVII 

ANGLIA OR FRONTENAC? 

You will be surprised to learn that the car is 
on the dock at Tilbury, boxed and waiting for 
the Georgic to sail and that we are returning on 
the Adriatic in about a week ! 

"What has happened?" I can imagine you say- 
ing. Well, so much has happened that I hardly 
know where to begin ! 

What do you suppose Ruth had to tell me 
when I reached the hotel? Perhaps you have 
guessed. Yes, our dearest hopes are at length — 
please God — to be realized. 

Ruth had not been quite like herself since the 
breakdown at Ross, and had written Maud, who 
at once said there was but one man in the world 
for her to see — you know what women are about 
their pet doctors ! So, as you already have been 
[ 227 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

told, Maud hastened to Barchester, I was bundled 
out of the way, and the two sisters came to town 
and saw the great man. 

"He was perfectly lovely," said Ruth to me, 
her eyes full of tears. 

"How old is he?" I suspiciously asked. 

"He looked like papa," said Ruth, and burst 
into tears. 

Well, the important matter is that he told her 
she was not mistaken but urged her to take great 
care of herself. 

She asked if she might motor ? 

"It would be better," he replied, for her to 
"job a brougham," while she was in town, be- 
cause the taxi men drove so recklessly. 

"But what about motoring in the country?" 

"With a very careful driver, and on smooth 
roads I should have no objection to a few miles 
a day. But, indeed, you cannot be too care- 
ful." 

When I heard that I turned cold! "A careful 
driver and smooth roads!" I thought of the 
hill at Sawley and the sidewalk at Shrewsbury, 
the "narrer road" in Ireland with the leap to 
the top of the hedge, and of the railway crossing ! 

I hurried to the garage and drove the car — not 
across London this time, but — around it, and came 
to Tilbury as soon as I could. I was afraid the 
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ANGLIA OR FRONTENAC? 



car might do us an injury if it were not quickly 
boxed ! 

So our journey has come to an unexpected end, 
and you will have to read no more letters, for we 
shall be home, I hope, almost as soon as this 
reaches you. Now that my face is turned home- 
ward I am impatient to arrive. I want to see 
the dear people and to get to work once more on 
the noisy old corner. And, above all, I want to 
drop into the study after working hours — say 
between eleven and twelve at night, and when 
the pipes are drawing well, listen to you talk. 
"No," I can fancy you saying, "you don't want 
to listen, you want to talk !" 

Well, perhaps both ! But before I see you I 
want to make a sort of Apologia for the letters I 
have written you. 

I am ashamed to think how flippant they must 
have seemed. But, indeed, while I dwelt upon 
the ridiculous side, thinking it might amuse you 
in your temporary blindness, you will not think 
so ill of me as to suppose that I am unable to ap- 
preciate the most wonderful people in history — 
bar one ! though the best in that one came out 
of this little island. As the writer of the Epistles 
to the Hebrews might have said: "America was 
in the loins of England when the foundations of 
democracy were laid !" 

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ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

We Americans see the humorous side of the 
feudal system which survives in the domestic life 
of England, but no thoughtful man can fail to be 
filled with admiration for the way England has 
guarded the "rights of man" far better than they 
are guarded with us. 

The rights of the minority are disregarded with 
us, but in England it is not so. It is not so 
much a deliberate spirit of compromise which 
is the source of England's strength, but rather 
an automatic arrangement which nature directs 
toward compensation. Just as — I think I have 
said this before, but no matter — in a pendulum 
there are metals of different expanding degrees, 
so in England the individual is merged in the 
family to an extent we can hardly imagine, be- 
cause with us the intense individuality of the 
people shows itself in the family in such a way 
that it is a question how long the family can exist. 
On the other hand, in England, when the indi- 
vidual does emerge from the family, he becomes 
far more of a political personality than with us. 

Then see how much we have to learn from them 
in the matter of education. I have no doubt our 
public schools are superior to the English board 
schools. But when it comes to the education of 
those who ought to be the leaders of the people, 
we cannot compare with them. Boys sent to 
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ANGLIA OR FRONTENAC? 



Winchester, Eton, Harrow, Rugby and other 
great "public" schools may not have the variety 
of studies of which our boys get a smattering, 
but how much better are their minds trained than 
are our boys' ! There is a popular outcry just 
now about the time wasted on the "dead" lan- 
guages. But it is forgotten that, apart from the 
benefit that comes from knowing the best that the 
ancient world thought, the public school man has 
learned to use his Greek and Latin as "top dress- 
ing" to enrich his style, and so is able to express 
himself in a clear and concise way which is the 
envy of all students of speech. 

Undoubtedly, this education has been too much 
the privilege of the favored few, but on the other 
hand it has tended to instil a sense of responsibility 
to the community which has given England the 
services of her most cultivated men, while we have 
had to put up with the "professional politician." 

What England will do when democracy claims 
the right to share the best, remains to be seen. 
But that it has an immense advantage in having 
already set a high standard, no thoughtful man 
can deny. However, these are questions I must 
save to talk about when we meet, which I am glad 
to think will be soon. 

I tell Ruth that, if it is a girl, she must be called 
"Anglia"; if a boy, we must name him "Fron- 
[231 ] 



ENGLISH WAYS AND BY-WAYS 

tenac." But she has settled the matter and, as 
usual, I submit. She says: "His name shall be 
called John." 

Well, I cannot but think he will be born under 
an auspicious star, for his life began on our happy, 
sunny day ! 



[ 232 ] 



